Out of Control
by Breezi
Summary: What if everything had gone according to plan?
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **Well, I'm starting a new one. This is my first attempt at a 'what if' fic…so we'll see how it goes. Don't forget to review and let me know what you think!!!

**Disclaimer: **Just for the record, in case you didn't know, I don't own any of it! Sad for me…

**Out of Control**

By: Breezi

**Prologue: **

It was now or never. The flight attendant had distracted Jackson. She needed to act. Think, Lisa, think, her mind kept screaming at her. There! She spotted him. A kid was snoozing away on his trey table, his fingers loosely gripping a goofy looking pen. With enough force, she could use that pen. She reached for it. Her fingertips just grazed its surface when a strong hand clamped down on her wrist from behind her.

"Now, what were you gonna do with that, Leese?" he breathed into her ear.

Choking down her sobs, Lisa wrenched her hand away from him and returned to her seat, her hopes remaining behind with that pen. Jackson took his seat next to her, reaching behind him for his seatbelt.

"I need you to pull yourself together, Lisa. We seem to have attracted a little attention. Once they've made their rounds, we'll make the call." He said and straightened out his suit jacket with a tug.

Lisa didn't respond. She couldn't. What could she say? A voice came over the speaker asking everyone to return to their seats since the captain had turned on the seatbelt sign. Lisa frantically tried to put together a plan to get herself and her father out of this alive, but there was nothing.

It was another few moments before the flight attendant came around. She was an older woman with red hair; the same one who had called Jackson out for what she had thought that he and Lisa had been doing in the bathroom. She looked down at Jackson now with obvious disdain; like he was a rodent. He didn't appreciate it.

"Trash." She said. It wasn't a question. She was calling him trash. She wasn't even trying to hide it. A second later she held up the plastic trash bag she was carrying.

Her real meaning was not lost on Jackson as he seethed up at her. Bitch, he thought, but he bit the comment back before he could actually verbalize it. He grabbed his peanut wrapped and water bottle and handed them both over to her, plastering on a bright, if not a little smug, smile. She glared down at him for another second before continuing on her rounds. Jackson watched her walk on past, then turned back to the phone with determination.

Lisa heard him swipe her credit card through the phone and winced as the tension painfully seeped its way through her entire body. He dialed, made sure it was ringing, and then held the phone out to her. She didn't want to take it. She didn't want to even touch it. God, she did not want to do this.

"It's time." Jackson said, his voice tinged with a cold impatience.

With a trembling hand, Lisa took the phone from him and put it to her ear facing away from him. He remembered the first time she had called and quickly snatched it, putting it to the other ear, giving him a clear view of the screen.

"Ah-ah." He tsked as he did so, "Thank you."

Lisa listened to the ringing on the other end of the line, her stomach knotting up with each and every one. A click; and Cynthia's voice filled her ear.

_"Lux Atlantic Resort, this is Cynthia._" She chirped.

Lisa didn't speak. All she kept thinking about was how she didn't want to go through with this. But she couldn't see what other choice she had. It was this…or her own father would die.

"_Hello?_" Cynthia asked, confused by the silence.

"Cynthia," Lisa finally choked, "It's Lisa."

"_Hey, you._" Cynthia said, sounding almost relieved to hear her voice. If only she knew. "_So, I guess you still need that favor._"

"Yeah," Lisa said, licking her lips despite the fact that her mouth seemed to have gone completely dry. So, that was it. After a quickly manufactured lie about a busted water valve, she had Cynthia switching Keefe to the room that Jackson wanted him in. She had sent a momentary panic through him though when she hesitated before saying the room number. After she had said it, he had released a slow breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding. Relief flooded through him and he visibly relaxed in his seat.

"_4080. Okay, and you're sure his security people will_..."

"Look, you're right. They're not gonna be happy so just…" Lisa paused, the full weight of what she was about to say pressed down on her like a garbage truck filled with bowling balls, "just tell them I authorized it."

Cynthia skittered off the phone, worried that she wouldn't have the room set up in time for Keefe's arrival. Like it actually mattered anymore. Lisa sat perfectly still for a very long moment, still holding the phone near her ear. So this is what it feels like to sell you soul, she thought bitterly to herself as she hung up the phone.

"Outstanding." Jackson said from beside her, relief evident in his voice, "Close."

Yeah, Lisa thought, but now it was her turn. She grabbed the phone once again and held it out to him, her eyes wide and sad. He looked down at the phone and then back up to her like he had no idea what she was doing.

"What?" he asked.

"You know what." Lisa stated slowly, enunciating every word, "My dad. Make the call. Your part of the deal."

Jackson shook his head, took the phone, and hung it back up; and Lisa felt as though he had just slapped her. "I still need you." He said.

"You promised." She pleaded, doing her best not to cry in front of him again.

"And I'll keep that promise." Jackson said, "As soon as we're on the ground, I'll get confirmation that Keefe's been handled."

"And while you wait for confirmation, what if your guy decides to kill my dad because you didn't make the call?" she said, her voice full of venom and controlled anger. She had just helped him kill a perfectly decent man! She had created a widow and two kids who wouldn't understand why their daddy would never be coming home! Damn him and what he needed, she wanted her payment! She wanted assurance that her dad would be okay!

"He doesn't make a move unless I say so. He's a good dog. He responds only to his master's voice." He said.

Lisa's entire body trembled with her anger. Was that supposed to be a comfort to her? That was his idea of placation! If she had managed to swipe that kid's pen, she would have shoved it right down his arrogant ass throat!

"It'll all be over soon," Jackson went on, "The Keefe's will be history, your dad will be safe, we'll both go back…"

"What?" she interrupted as something that he had just said resonated in her head, "What did you say?"

"What?" Jackson asked.

"His family's with him?"

Fuck! Jackson thought. He could have hit himself for that slip up. She wasn't supposed to know about that part? He had planned on sparing her that at least. Why the hell couldn't he have been born a liar?

"You're gonna kill his family, too?" Lisa asked.

Jackson couldn't take her looking at him like that. He looked away, staring instead at the back of the seat in front of him. "Somebody wants to send a big brash message, that's their business." He said with a swallow, trying to force his distaste for his employer's actions back down his throat, "I do my part, move on."

Jackson was a practical type of guy; a professional. Everything he did had its purpose, its reason, its logical outcome. Like a chess player, every move he made was in anticipation of another step; a bigger step; checkmate. The end justified the means. Everything he did had a reason. He couldn't find the benefit of killing two kids who hadn't done a damn thing wrong in the world, but that sadly wasn't his call to make. However, he could not let Lisa see how much it really bothered him. It was a sign of weakness and that was something he couldn't afford to show to her at this point. She had already proven that she was stronger than he had originally taken her for.

Oh God, Lisa thought, what have I done? She hadn't widowed or orphaned anybody! She had wiped out an entire family! There was no stopping the tears this time. Suddenly, her soul didn't seem worth it.

They spent most of the rest of the flight in silence. The sun had started to rise and Jackson as the plane prepared for landing, Jackson muttered off something about Starbucks and killing time. Lisa wasn't really paying attention. Nothing mattered anymore. He could kill her as soon as they got off of the plane for all that she cared.

"Whatever you say." She responded.

"What? No questions?" he asked.

Lisa turned to face him, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "Does it really matter at this point?"

He felt something in his stomach for her at that moment that he didn't really recognize. He didn't care for the feeling, so he pushed it aside and ignored it. She wasn't fighting him anymore. That was the important thing. So, why was it bothering him so much? Did he want her to fight him? Ever since he had revealed the truth to her, she had been fighting him tooth and nail; giving him ultimatums, trying to sneak messages, he could only imagine what it was that she had had planned for that pen. She was certainly keeping him on his toes. He hadn't had that in a long time.

Everyone broke into applause when the plane hit the ground with a slight jolt. Everyone except for Lisa, who was thinking about the fact that she had just signed a family's death warrant along with a deal with the devil, and Jackson, who was watching Lisa despite the fact that he knew he shouldn't be. The plane came to a stop and the seatbelt sign went off, drawing Jackson's gaze. He unhooked his seatbelt, but paused when he noticed out of the corner of his eye, that Lisa had yet to move. He put a hand to her shoulder and she instantly recoiled from the touch, turning her face to glare up at him.

"Let's go, Lisa." Jackson said, setting his jaw sternly.

Jackson stood up in the aisle and stepped back slightly, letting Lisa out in front of him. He got her bags down from the overhead for her; ever the perfect fucking gentleman. They moved slowly with the mass of people, Jackson remaining as closely tucked in to her back as he could. As soon as their feet hit the unloading ramp, Lisa cringed. Jackson's hand had found its way to the small of her back and he guided her along. But, after everything that had gone on between them that night, it seemed to be the least intimate way he could have chosen to touch her.

True to his word, Jackson steered her toward Starbucks where they stood in the line in silence. Lisa stared straight ahead of her at nothing. She felt hollow, numb, completely void of any and all feeling. She barely even batted an eye when she heard Jackson order himself a _grande _latte and a _grande _mocha for her. He had been watching her for eight weeks; of course he knew her favorite coffee. Before she knew it, they were seated across from each other at a small round table. Jackson's cell phone sat on the table in front of him. Lisa stared at it as though it were a nuclear bomb. She hadn't touched her mocha.

Jackson watched Lisa. She didn't notice; too absorbed in her own thoughts. She was an amazing creature, Lisa Reisert. Strong and vulnerable and good. When he had taken this assignment and started watching her, he had found himself wondering about her. He wanted to find out what made her tick. What had made such a beautiful, sharp, witty young woman spend her nights alone with her television? It had something to do with that scar, he was sure of that now. But what? He studied her lovely face. What happened to you, Lisa Reisert? He didn't ask the question out loud?

His cell phone rang, knocking them both out of their heads and back into the real world. He watched as Lisa's body visibly tensed as he picked his phone up from the table.

"Hello?" Jackson answered.

Lisa's throat tightened up with that horrible clenching pain that immediately preceded tears. Her gaze flickered to the TV that hung above the row of people waiting for their coffee. A breaking news headline flashed across the screen, followed by an image of the Lux Atlantic as an explosion burst from the side. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth as fresh tears spilled from her eyes.

Jackson hung up the phone without saying goodbye and turned to Lisa. She was staring at something and crying. He looked in the direction of her gaze, saw the news report and turned back to her. Her world was about to spiral into chaos. There was nothing her could do to stop that now, but there was a part in the back of his mind that prayed that she was tough enough to handle what was about to come her way. He scooted his chair a little closer to her and put his hand on her arm. She recoiled violently from his touch, which was to be expected, and her eyes focused sharply in on him.

"Lisa," he said, leaning in close to her, "I'm going to leave, now. It's almost over. In ten minutes, dad will be perfectly safe. You did good, Leese."

You did good? Lisa thought with vehemence. Had he honestly just said that to her? She had just made the phone call that had sealed the fate of an entire family! She had done anything but good! She should have fought harder! She had wanted to fight harder! But, if she had…her dad would…

Jackson stood from his chair and ran his hands over the front of his jacket, preparing to walk away from her forever. But, as she sat there with silent tears streaming down her face, he had to offer her some semblance of comfort. He knelt beside her, resting his hand on the back of her chair.

"Lisa," he breathed, "I just want you to know…his kids weren't with him."

Her face jerked suddenly in his direction, her chin quivering, lips trembling, eyes holding only the smallest shred of hope.

"They went to visit their grandmother for the week." He told her what his phone conversation had confirmed. The Keefe children were not with their parents.

Lisa's face contorted, twisted into a picture of mental pain and anguish and sadness. She didn't know how she had held it in for this long, but at his words, something inside of her snapped. Sobs came ripping from her throat and she buried her face in the palms of her hands. Jackson stroked a hand over her hair as he rose to his feet. He watched her crying for a long second, then, for no reason at all, bent at the waist and placed a tender kiss on her temple. Then, he turned on his heel and walked away from her. To an outsider, they looked like a couple who had just split up. He was just some jerk who had broken his girlfriend's heart. He was pretty sure that he had even heard a young woman mutter something about him being an asshole under her breath as he had walked past her.

He paid the accusing stares from the people at the coffee bar no mind. He strolled out of the airport, a picture of confidence and class. As soon as he was no longer connected to a crying woman, he noticed how almost every woman he passed turned her head in attempt to get a better look at him. He flashed a few flirty smiles along with a wink or two, but right now he was all about business. As soon as he passed through the doors and into the muggy heat that was Miami, he whipped out his cell phone and pushed number five on his speed dial.

"Job's done. Clear out." He said. His words were curt and short and they served their purpose. His man would load into his beamer and vanish into the day like he had never been there at all. Joe Reisert was no longer in any sort of danger from him. Lisa was officially free. He had never disobeyed orders before.

Back inside the airport, Jackson had been gone for a full five minutes. Lisa pushed away from the table, standing so fast that her chair toppled over backwards. She looked around the busy airport, her eyes wide and frightened, and then, with no control over her body whatsoever, a scream curdled up out of her from somewhere that she hadn't even known existed. She screamed and screamed and screamed. She screamed for forever; dropping to her knees and tugging her hands through her hair. People rushed to her from all sides, but the only sounds she could make, were screams.

**Author's Note: **I know, I know, but I really couldn't bring myself to kill the kids. It felt wrong! That's it for the prologue. Again, this is my first 'what if' and I'm not sure how it's going to turn out so any and all feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks!!!


	2. Chapter One: The Aftermath

**Author's Note: **Sorry it's taken me so long to update…getting ready for finals and all that jazz. Anywho, here's the first chapter. Don't be shy! Tell me what you think!!!

**Chapter One: The Aftermath**

They had hauled her out of the airport in restraints. Security had been called and when they got there, they deemed her to be a danger to herself and to others. Three men had tackled her from all sides. Paramedics had come and strapped her down to a stretcher before ceremoniously wheeling her out of the airport and loading her into an ambulance, where she had been immediately drugged and sedated.

She had received a full checkup at the hospital. The paramedics had called her father and he had come to meet her there. She didn't think she had ever been so happy to see her dad as she had been when he had walked through her hospital room door.

"Oh, my God, sweetheart," he said, concern etched deep in the lines of his well worn face, "what happened?"

"Daddy!" Lisa cried, ignoring the sudden head-rush and queasiness as she stood up and threw both of her arms around his neck. She couldn't remember the last time she had called him daddy; but at the moment it seemed like the only appropriate word for how she was feeling. He had only been there for a minute when the police had shown up.

There were two of them. Detective Paul and Detective Aberman. Detective Aberman was young, no more than thirty. He had big, soft brown eyes that should have belonged to a puppy, not a hardened detective. He easily cleared six feet tall with change to spare and his jet black hair was cut short in the back and longer on top, so it hung down in his eyes. He had a square chin, a nose that was slightly too large for his face and crooked like it had been broken more than once, and no upper lip to speak of. It had been three hours since the Lux had been hit with a guided missile that had killed Charles Keefe and his wife and already the young man looked tired and drained. He wore a tan suit jacket over dark gray slacks, with a wrinkled white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar. His red JC Penny tie hung loose and askew around his neck like he had been jerking at it for the past few hours. It was still early in the day and he already had a five o'clock shadow of a beard. Lisa doubted whether he had shaved at all.

Then, there was Detective Paul who was the older, more experienced of the two. He just had that air about him. He was shorter than Aberman, but not by much. Maybe an inch, if that. He had to be pushing fifty and already his face had taken on the appearance of finely worn leather with lines cutting so deep and sharp, Lisa wondered if he had ever been a kid. His light gray suit had seen better days and there was a mustard stain on the collar of his cream colored shirt. His tie was dark blue with a black diamond pattern on it. Once upon a time, his hair had probably been black, but had since faded to a salt and pepper gray and his eyes were an unremarkable hazel. He had the look of a man who had been living on a diet of coffee and cigarettes for way too long. Neither man looked very happy to be there, not that Lisa thought any less of them for that. She wasn't exactly thrilled herself.

"Ms. Reisert?" Detective Paul asked, his tone soft and gentle. Paternal.

Lisa looked from one to the other before weakly nodding her head 'yes'.

"We've got a few questions we'd like to ask you!" Detective Aberman barked a little too aggressively for Lisa's liking.

Detective Paul put his hand on the younger man's shoulder; a subtle warning for him to calm down. He then turned his attention back to Lisa and took one step in her direction. "Ms. Reisert, if it would be convenient, when you're free to leave the hospital, we'd appreciate it if you would come down to the station and have a talk with us."

"Lisa, what's going on?" Joe asked his daughter.

"It's okay, dad." Lisa reassured him, never taking her eyes away from the policemen in front of her. "Of course. I'd be happy to come in."

"Good." Aberman said just before being shouldered out of the room by Paul.

"Sorry for the interruption." Paul said, trying to make up for his partner's lack of manners, "Thank you for your time."

Once they had left, Joe pulled Lisa's attention to himself once again, "Lisa, honey, what's going on? What happened to you? The news is saying that someone attacked your hotel and now the police…"

"Daddy, are you okay?" Lisa blurted suddenly, grabbing hold of both his forearms.

The question seemed to come out of left field to Joe, but then, he had no idea what was going on. "Me?" He said, returning his daughter's hold by clutching her elbows.

Lisa nodded, her eyes burning into his, looking for any sign that he had somehow been harmed.

"Sweetheart, I'm fine." He said, stroking a hand over her hair, "It's you I'm worried about."

She didn't know what it was about his words, or that moment that set her off, but the next thing she knew, her knees buckled beneath her and she collapsed forward, hysterical and crying in her father's arms. The reality of the day slammed into her with the force of a Mack truck and there was nothing she could do about it. She was responsible for the death of two people; maybe more. That explosion had leveled three floors of the hotel. She didn't know what the final death toll would be. Part of her didn't want to know. Scratch that. There wasn't one iota of her that _did _want to know. In fact, the only thing that she wanted was to crawl into bed for a month and wake up to find that this had all been just one big bad nightmare. That wasn't going to happen though. She knew that much.

The hospital had wanted to keep her overnight for psychiatric observation, but had agreed to release her into her father's care. Hearing that she could go home had been music to Lisa's ears. She didn't get to go home, though. She had to go down to the police department to give them her statement. She really wanted to call Cynthia. She wanted to know if she was okay. Everything had been happening so quickly, she hadn't had the chance to get a hold of her.

The police station was the very definition of the word 'chaos' actualized. People were running around, shouting orders at each other, passing papers to and fro, phones ringing, phone being slammed down and picked back up. Lisa and Joe were ushered through the room by a five foot nothing woman with a red pixie haircut and a shoulder holster. Lisa was then led into a room while her dad was asked to remain outside.

Lisa sat down at the table that was located in the center of the room. She felt like she had just stepped into an episode of _Law and Order_ by mistake. There was even a giant mirror; two way she assumed. She dropped her head down onto the tabletop and closed her eyes. Any residual energy that she had in her had drained out during the car ride over. She didn't have any left.

The door opened and Detectives Paul and Aberman came walking into the room. Lisa lifted her head from the table and did her best to sit up straight in her chair.

"Nice to see you again, Ms. Reisert." Paul said taking the seat adjacent to her, "How are you feeling?"

"You don't want me to answer that, Detective. Trust me." Lisa said.

Paul chuckled, "You're probably right."

"So, Lisa, is it okay if I call you Lisa?" Aberman said, then without waiting for her to answer, "What were you doing in Texas?"

Wow, Lisa thought closing her eyes. It had taken one weekend for her entire world to fall apart. She reopened her eyes and looked at the younger detective. "My grandmother passed away. I was there for her funeral."

Aberman looked almost physically taken aback and Paul dropped his head into his hands in evident frustration. He was really gonna have to teach the kid how to handle things with a touch more delicacy. He looked back up at her with sympathetic eyes.

"I'm so sorry to hear that. You were close with her?" he asked.

Lisa nodded and looked down, suddenly very interested in her fingernails. She didn't want to cry anymore, let alone in front of these men. She hated feeling weak. She had promised herself two years ago that she would never let herself be put through the turmoil of being helpless again, and yet here she was.

"Ms. Reisert," Paul went on, opting not to call her by her first name since she had never actually said that she didn't mind it, "I assume you know why we've asked you to come in here."

Lisa nodded again, bringing her eyes up to meet his. He seemed like such a nice man. But, then, she'd been wrong before. "Because of what happened at my hotel."

"_Your _hotel?" Aberman snorted.

Lisa fixed him with a pointed stare, "I'm the head manager in charge. I spend more time there than I do at my own home. So, yes, Detective, _my _hotel."

Aberman flew at the table, slamming his palms down hard on the mock wood surface and leaning toward her until he was practically nose to nose, violating her personal space. "Then why did you blow it up?" he demanded.

"What?" Lisa exclaimed, "You think I did this?"

Of course, they thought that she had done it. Hell, technically, she _had _done it. But, not of her own volition. They had to know that she would never do something like that by choice.

"Detective." Paul said, his tone a voice of warning.

But Aberman ignored him and plunged on ahead, "We have a sworn statement from a Mrs. Cynthia Miller that she only changed Mr. Keefe's room after _you_ called her and told her that there was a plumbing problem!"

"Oh, God." Lisa said, putting both hands over her forehead.

"Detective." Paul warned again, a little firmer this time.

It made no difference; Aberman seemed to think that he was on a roll, "_And _we have a Mr. Daniel Young telling us that there was no such problem in Mr. Keefe's usual suite! Can you explain this?"

"There are other factors here." Lisa said, trying with all her might to keep her voice level and not doing a very good job of it.

"Did you make those calls, Lisa?" Aberman screamed at her. The tips of his ears had turned bright red.

"You're not listening to me…"

"Did you make those calls?"

"Please! If you'll just…"

"Tell me you made those calls!"

"Detective Aberman!" Paul screamed, springing to his feet and matching Aberman's volume, "Can I see you in the hall for a second, please?"

Both men stomped from the small room with Detective Paul slamming the door behind them. Lisa looked around the room as though in a daze for a moment before looking down to find that her hands were shaking, and she couldn't seem to stop them. She had this terrible feeling in the bottom of her stomach that this was all going to be blamed on her. The truth was, there was even a part of her that thought that she deserved the blame; that she really was guilty. But she hadn't been the one to orchestrate it and they needed to know about Jackson. It was fine if they needed to punish her for giving in; for being weak; but they needed to find Jackson and the people who had hired him. They needed to pay for what they had done.

The door opened once more and Detective Paul reentered, alone. He set a cup of coffee down in front of her.

"Here." He said with a smile, "I thought maybe you might be a little thirsty."

"Thank you." Lisa said, picking up the steaming Styrofoam cup and taking a small sip, more out of politeness than actual desire. It was thick and hot and clung to the roof of her mouth like mud. If it wasn't the worst coffee she had ever tasted in her life, it was definitely in the top five.

"Sorry about Aberman." He said, "He can get a little carried away."

"Oh," Lisa said with a nod and chagrin, "So you weren't playing good cop, bad cop?"

"I wish." Paul said, rubbing a big hand over his leathery face, "Aberman isn't that good of an actor, though."

That won him an actual smile. It was sad, but it was genuine. He opened the manila file folder that he had carried in with him. She took another sip of the bad sludge-like coffee and looked at him.

"I thought the FBI would be handling this." She said.

"Uh, we're part of a joint task force. Throwing lots of minds together with the hopes of speedy progress."

"Seems smart."

"Yeah, I'm afraid we do have to clear some things up, though, Ms. Reisert." He said.

"I know." Lisa said, pushing a hand back through her hair.

"All right," Paul went on with a nod, "about the phone calls…"

"Yes," Lisa cut him off, "I did make that call."

"To change the suite?"

"Yes."

"Who told you that there was a plumbing problem?"

"No one told me that."

Paul flipped the file closed. "That confuses me, Ms. Reisert. Why did you tell Ms. Miller to change Keefe's room, then?"

"Because I was told to." Lisa said, perfectly aware of how ridiculous she really sounded saying that. It was a common excuse used by three year olds.

"You just said that no one…"

"Right. No one told me that there was a plumbing problem. The man I'm talking anout, Jackson Rippner, he told me to call and tell Cynthia to change the room."

"And you just did it? No questions asked?"

"Of course not." Lisa said incredulously, "He threatened to kill my father if I didn't."

"Is there anyone who can attest to this?" he asked.

Lisa slumped down a little lower in her chair and shook her head.

Detective Paul blew all the air out of his lungs, "You know how this sounds, don't you?"

Lisa laughed, but there was no humor to it. "Oh, yeah." She said, "Detective, can I ask you a question?"

Paul looked at her. She looked so sad and lost. She reminded him of his oldest girl. "Of course, you can, Ms. Reisert."

"Do I need to get a lawyer?"

"Well, you're not technically under arrest…"

"Detective?" Lisa interjected.

Paul stopped talking and focused in on her. How was it possible for anyone to look so young and so old all at the same time? It didn't seem right. Nothing about this day seemed right at all.

"Please," Lisa said, "If you're straight with me, I'll never be anything else with you. Do I need a lawyer?"

"Under the circumstances," Paul said on top of a sigh, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table, "I would strongly advise it."

Lisa nodded and sat back in her chair, a fresh wave of sorrow overwhelming her and new tears began to slide from her eyes. She covered her mouth with one shaking hand and looked away from the detective before closing her eyelids tightly together. After three deep breaths, she managed to pull herself together and reopened her eyes. She dropped her hands back down onto the table, "Can I talk to my dad, now?"

"Sure." Paul said, pushing up from the table.

"Detective?" Lisa called to him before he exited.

Paul paused in the open doorway and looked over his shoulder at her, "Yes, Ms. Reisert?"

"Do you believe me?" she asked.

Detective Paul took a deep breath of his own. "Be straight with you, huh?" he said. Lisa nodded. "I don't know if I believe you."

Lisa nodded again, though her chin quivered slightly, "I guess I can understand that."

It was another three hours before Lisa was questioned again. Three hours of sitting in that dank little room in uncomfortable chairs drinking crappy coffee. But, after one, she had been joined by Mr. Sam Donovan, her father's lawyer. She spent the next two hours filling him in on what was going on. She had known Mr. Donovan since she was ten years old; the man was like a second father to her. Finally, they were rejoined by Detective Paul and, oh joy, Detective Aberman.

"Now, Lisa, just let me remind you that you don't have to answer anything, okay. If they start to make you uncomfortable, you just let me know." Donovan said, laying a comforting hand on her forearm.

Donovan was a tall, elegant man with silver hair and charcoal colored eyes. He was in his late fifties, but still looked thirty five. He wore a sharp light gray suit and carried a briefcase made of Italian leather. His silver rimmed glasses were Vogue. He and her father had been playing golf together for years.

"I'm so sorry that you've had to be here for so long, Ms. Reisert." Detective Paul said, and he meant it, "I know you're tired."

Lisa managed a weak smile, "It's okay."

Paul flipped open the same file from earlier and uncapped his pen. "So," he said, "Tell me about this man. The one that threatened you father…uh…"

"Rippner." Lisa supplied, "Jackson Rippner."

"Yeah. Rippner. Let's talk about him." Paul said, jotting that name down in the file.

Lisa glanced at Donovan, then blew out a breath and searched her memory. Where was she supposed to start? She licked her lips and turned to Paul, "Well…um…wha…" she cast another look to Donovan, "Where should I start?"

Donovan opened his mouth to respond, but it was Paul who answered her question. "Why don't you just start at the beginning? For instance, where did you first see him?"

"The, um, the check-in line." Lisa replied, "He was behind me."

"What does he look like?"

"Taller than me. About…5'8, 5'9. Um, he's lean. Dark brown hair." Lisa paused for a moment, almost zoning out as she thought about his most striking feature, "And he has blue eyes. _Blue _eyes. The clearest blue you've ever seen."

"Was he attractive?" Aberman asked from his position standing with his back leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I'm sorry?" Lisa said, blinking herself out of the memory of Jackson's breathtaking eyes.

"You know, good looking?" Aberman went on.

Detective Paul rubbed two fingers against his temple as he said a silent prayer that he wouldn't be forced to throw his partner out of the room again.

"Well…" Lisa started to say, but was cut off by Donovan.

"I'm sorry, Detective," he said, "how is this relevant?"

"I'm just curious as to whether or not Ms. Reisert found this Rippner guy attractive." Aberman said with a nonchalant shrug of his broad shoulders.

"Yeah," Lisa said, not entirely certain as to where the young detective was going with this particular line of questioning, "I thought he was handsome…at first."

Aberman nodded and made a face that Lisa couldn't read. It made her uncomfortable.

"What happened next, Ms. Reisert?" Detective Paul asked, pulling Lisa's attention back to him.

"He bought me a drink." Lisa said, then added, "Actually, he guessed my drink."

"What?" Paul said, his ear catching that detail.

Lisa gave a humorless laugh, "He said he could guess my drink of choice and he did. He nailed it. I thought it was charming."

"Then, what?" Aberman asked, his tone growing increasingly impatient.

"He got a phone call. We parted ways. Then it turned out that our seats were together on the plane." As she recounted the tale, she couldn't help but remember how she had thought it all to be so innocent. God, was she really that stupid! "Once we were in the air, he…" she trailed off and closed her eyes. She refused to let herself cry again; she just wasn't going to let it happen.

"He what, Ms. Reisert?" Paul urged gently.

"He said he was a manager." She said, opening her eyes, "Said he was in charge of government overthrows and political assassinations. I thought he was kidding. That's when he told me that if I didn't do what he wanted, he would have my father killed."

From across the room, she heard Aberman snort. She glared at him at the same time Paul flashed him a pointed look. Donovan rubbed a hand over hers and drew her attention away from Aberman. After her lawyer nodded at her, she turned back to Detective Paul.

"What did he want you to do?" Paul asked.

"Call the hotel and switch Mr. Keefe…" Lisa stopped again. That was the first time she had said his name since…"Oh, God…Mr. Keefe…" She buried her face in her hands. So much for not crying anymore today.

"I know this is difficult, Ms. Reisert. But, if you could try to focus…" Paul said.

Lisa nodded and pulled her face out of her hands, her cheeks damp with fresh tears. "He wanted me to change Mr. Kee…Mr. Keefe out of his usual suite."

"What was his usual suite?" Aberman asked.

"Room 3825."

"And you moved him to?"

"Room 4 0 8 0."

"All because this Rippner guy told you to?" Aberman continued.

"Because he said he would kill my dad if I didn't."

"Bullshit!" Aberman snapped.

"Aberman!" Paul warned.

"You wanna know what I think, Ms. Reisert?" Aberman said, shoving off from his place at the wall, "I think you've been having a bad couple of months. Maybe even a bad couple of years…"

Lisa stared up at him, too shocked to say anything. The sad part was, he wasn't that far off base.

"You wanted to take it out on someone, why not the place you work? Why not on Charles Keefe?" Aberman went on.

"No." Lisa said, "He made me! I didn't want to…"

"That's enough, Detective!" Donovan bellowed.

"Let's say, just hypothetically, that this Rippner character really does exist. Okay. You met him. He was charming. He was exciting. You'd never really met anyone like him before. He buys you a drink and then you plan an assassination together?"

"Lisa, you don't have to listen to this. Let's go." Donovan said, taking hold of Lisa's arm and pulling her to her feet.

The door opened and a man Lisa had never seen before stuck his bald head in. "Detectives, can I speak to you for a moment?" the new man said.

"Can you wait for just one second, please?" Paul asked.

"Detective…"

"Just one second, Mr. Donovan, please." Paul insisted.

Donovan blew out a long breath and motioned for Lisa to sit back down. The two detectives disappeared out into the hall.

"What's going on, Donnie?" Lisa asked the man that she had known for half of her life; then man who now held that life in his hands.

"I'm not sure, honey," he said, "Hopefully, that one little shit is out there having his ass chewed."

Lisa had the sinking feeling that that was not the case. The door opened a moment later and both detectives reentered the room. Averman looked like a kid at Christmas and Paul looked like he had just lost a screaming match. Aberman started to walk toward her, but Paul put his hand out to stop the younger man.

"Ms. Reisert, could you stand up, please?" Paul asked.

"What's going on?" Lisa asked, lifting herself out of her chair.

Paul moved to stand behind her, pulling his handcuffs from his belt. "Lisa Reisert, you are under arrest for the charges of conspiracy to commit murder and conspiracy to commit a terrorist act."

"Oh, my God." Lisa said, closing her eyes as her hands were cuffed behind her back. She kept willing herself to wake up. This couldn't be real. There was no way that this was actually happening to her. For what had to be the millionth time in the past twenty four hours, she started to cry.

"You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford…" Paul was saying.

Donovan was speaking over the detective's voice, "Lisa, honey, don't say anything else. You hear me? Keep your mouth shut. We're gonna figure this out."

Lisa's eyes darted back and forth, as if searching for something in her mind. Her body trembled and there was a steady stream of tears rolling down her cheeks. Her breathing was coming in short, shaky bursts. Across the room. Aberman was actually _smiling_ at her.

Paul's voice was in her head, but it sounded blurry and far away…like a dream that she couldn't quite get away from. "Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?"

**Author's Note: **Well, that's all for now. Forgive me, the only legal jargon that I know is what I pick up on _Law and Order_. Let me know what you think, please!!! Those two magic little words…read and review!!!


	3. Chapter Two: What Happens Now?

**Author's Note: **I apologize profusely for the incredibly long delay in updating. I have no excuse…but I do respectfully beg your forgiveness. Well, here's the next chapter. I hope it's up to par. Be sure to let me know!!!

**Chapter Two: What Happens Now?**

Lisa lay curled up in the fetal position on the paper thin concrete hard mattress of her cot. Facing the wall, her arms were tucked tightly in between her knees and abdomen in an effort to retain her own body heat. It was like no matter what she did, she couldn't seem to warm herself up. It had to be the place. Stone walls, concrete floors, metal bars, and no windows. Apparently, bail isn't even offered to people that are suspected of terrorist activities. A fact that she gave her full and complete support to; up until one month ago that is.

Lisa had been handed over into the capable hands of the staff of the Winster Corrections Facility for Women, a medium security prison. She had been assured that this setting was only temporary, however. After she was found guilty at her trial, she would be immediately transferred to a maximum security prison…or walked to a little room, given a cotton swab and the shot of a lifetime. Well, at least for now she had a single cell. They were afraid that she would go around converting the other inmates to her terrorist ways. So, she spent most of her time alone, not that she was necessarily complaining about that. She did not enjoy the time that she did have to spend with her newly acquired neighbors.

In the cafeteria, she ate alone. If somebody happened to sit down beside her, she would stand up and move. And community showers; those were fun! There really was nothing quite like standing in a room full of naked women, all dripping with water and soap without even a tiny partition to divide you. A week ago, she had been trying to bathe as quickly as she could when she noticed Janice, a six foot fly weight boxing champion with arms approximately the width of telephone poles, staring at her scar; or more accurately, what was beneath it. Needless to say, she went to bed that night with soap still in her hair and if she ever saw Janice coming toward her, she found an excuse to go to another area of the prison all together.

She spent the majority of her time reading. Newspapers, mostly. It was interesting seeing her own name in the headlines of papers as prestigious as _The New York Times_. Her trial was going to be getting excellent coverage, even though she had been assured that not one reporter was going to have access to the actual courtroom. Instead, they would all be camped out on the steps. She had also been reading articles about the Keefe children. She had learned that custody had been granted to their aunt on their mother's side and that she had moved them to the other side of the country. Maybe a new life would make things easier on them; though she doubted it. Every time she discovered something new had been written about them, it made her cry a little. She had cried a lot in the past month. She hadn't cried that much since that man in the parking lot had…well, it had been a long time. She was slowly coming to terms with what she had done. She had run and rerun that flight in her head about a million different times with a million different scenarios, each outcome as improbable as the last.

The sound of her cell door opening broke her from her thoughts and brought her slamming violently back into reality. She took a breath and glanced over her shoulder from her position on the cot.

Mona, a stout guard roughly the size of a professional NFL linebacker with a shock of platinum blonde hair stood there. "Let's go, Reisert." She said in a voice that was surprisingly feminine for her body, "You've got a visitor."

She couldn't mingle with the criminals, but the outside world, hey! That was fine and dandy with them. Morons. She wasn't about to point out their serious error in judgment, though. She unfolded her body and lifted herself from the cot to follow Mona to the visitors' room. Lisa walked past the other inmates who were talking with their loved ones and took a seat at the Plexiglas window. Smiling sadly on the other side of it sat the pretty redhead. They each lifted their perspective phones.

"Hey, you." Cynthia cooed, "How are you?"

"As good as can be expected, I guess." Lisa said, trying to make light of the gaping black hole that was her current situation, she added, "Although orange is most definitely not my color."

"Oh, God, Leese. I feel like this is all my fault." Cynthia spewed.

"No…no, Cynthia." Lisa said shaking her head, "None of this is your fault. You did what I told you to do."

"I shouldn't have told them about the phone call. You wouldn't be here if I hadn't told them about the phone call."

"You told them the truth, Cynthia." Lisa reassured her, "You did the right thing."

"But…"

"No, no buts. They'll figure all this out and then I'll be out of here. Besides, I helped terrorists kill Mr. Keefe. I deserve to be in here."

"You don't mean that, Leese."

Lisa wasn't looking at her anymore though. She was staring down and to the left; lost in her own thoughts. Did she really feel that she deserved to be in prison? Yes. Did she think that it was going to happen? More than likely. Could she tell that to Cynthia and her dad? Not a chance. She blinked twice and looked back up at her friend.

"What?" she asked.

"Do you really feel that way?" Cynthia asked, her big eyes on the verge of tears.

Lisa smiled, "Of course, not. I feel guilty, Cynthia. You're just have to ignore my mindset for a little while."

"Okay," Cynthia said, "You scared me there for a sec. Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

"The trial?"

"Yeah."

"A little."

They sat in silence for another minute, neither one of them really knowing what to say. It seemed better for the time being not to say anything at all. Cynthia was to be a witness at the trial. Technically and ethically, she shouldn't have even been there at all, but she had needed to see her friend, and Lisa would be lying to herself if she said that seeing Cynthia's face hadn't brightened up the dark abyss that was her life; even if only a little bit.

Meanwhile…

Detective Paul sat at the headquarters of the FBI task force, typing vigorously at a computer keyboard. So far, Lisa had failed to reveal what terrorist group it was that had attacked the Lux Atlantic. Personally, he didn't believe she knew. He didn't think that she had slightest idea because he didn't believe that she had been a willing participant. But, it did seem a bit more complicated that a wrong place, wrong time sort of thing. So, here he was searching for any and all police records on Lisa H. Reisert. He had only found the files on the present case and one report from two years ago. It wasn't a complaint against her, though. It was a rape report. All of the sudden, he felt incredibly sick to his stomach.

Then, he noticed something. There was something in the upper right hand corner of the screen.

"Hey, Felix!" he called over his shoulder.

Agent Matthew Felix came shuffling over, a donut dangling from his mouth, sprinkling crumbs and powdered sugar over the black material of his _Star Wars _tee shirt and his nose in an open file folder. He was their resident techno nerd. He looked the part, too. Tall, gangly, all limbs. He was about twenty eight with jet black hair, gelled up in unruly spikes and black square framed glasses.

"What is it?" he mumbled through a mouthful of donut, more crumbs tumbling from his lips.

"What is that?" Paul asked, pointing his index finger to the tiny red flag shaped dot in the corner of the screen.

"That's a trace marker." Felix said, his brow suddenly furrowing.

"Thanks, Felix!" The older man spat impatiently, "What does it mean?"

"Oh." Felix said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "It means that this file has been accessed by an outside computer. There's a firewall that marks any file that gets hacked into so that our guys at intel can trace back through the steps and find out what enabled somebody to slip through."

"When did this happen?"

"Well, the marker's have a three day limit before they send out an email to the head of intel. Kind of like a car alarm for the system."

"You're saying that somebody hacked into Lisa Reisert's file?" Paul asked.

"Yeah. Probably some overly curious teenager."

"A kid can hack into the FBI, now?"

"Twenty first century, man. Kids can and do, do all sorts of shit." Felix said, his youthful face glowing with pride in his generation.

"Great." Paul muttered as the techno weenie walked away, cramming the rest of his pastry into his mouth. He studied the picture of Lisa on the computer screen in front of him. "Who's studying up on you, Ms. Reisert?" he asked the screen.

The next morning, Lisa was walked through the back entrance of the state courthouse. Her hands were cuffed behind her back and she had a police escort on each side and one behind her. She wasn't expecting much good to come from the day, but she was happy to be wearing real clothes as opposed to that damned orange jumpsuit. They had even given her high heels. You know, women can complain all they want to about high heels, but the truth of the matter is that you miss them when you can't have them.

After a lengthy wait in a tiny room that consisted of a single chair and an armed guard, she was finally taken into the courtroom. Her handcuffs were removed and she instantly went to hug her father. She hugged her mother as well; she had flown in from Texas for the trial. Both of her parents embraced her at the same time once more before she turned away from them to take her seat beside Donovan. She noticed Detectives Paul and Aberman were present as well. The judge entered, everyone rose and then sat back down again.

The trial went pretty much exactly as Lisa had expected it to go; lengthy and boring with very few highlights. Max Canton, the prosecuting attorney, a fierce looking man with dyed black hair and a Hugo Boss suit, presented a copy of Lisa's credit card records to show that she had in fact paid for the phone call to the hotel from the plane, which she had already admitted to. A few passengers recalled that she had seemed upset and agitated during the flight. Poor Cynthia had broken down into tears on the stand when Canton had forced her to identify Lisa as the person who had called her. Dan Young had been called on to testify that there was in fact, no maintenance problem in Mr. Keefe's usual suite. It all seemed very repetitive to Lisa. She had already admitted to most of the things that they were trying so hard to prove.

Donovan had asked the passengers if they had noticed the young man seated beside Ms. Reisert on the plane. Yes, it had appeared that the two of them were together. Most had thought that they were a couple having an argument and trying not to make it public. One flight attendant remembered the two of them emerging from the bathroom together. A middle aged bleached blonde said that he was a very polite, very helpful young man. Another passenger, a middle aged man, recalled the young man stepping to the defense of Ms. Reisert in the check-in line. Donovan tried to spin it so that the jury knew that this phantom young man whom nobody had been able to locate was the real terrorist. Lisa didn't think it was going according to plan, though. The only thing anyone seemed to recall about Jackson was that he had seemed like a perfectly charming gentleman with incredible eyes. Oh yeah, his eyes had been mentioned more than once.

In the end, Donovan had convinced the jury of Jackson Rippner's existence.

Canton had tried to convince them that he was Lisa's partner in the act as opposed to her captor.

Witnesses to Lisa's breakdown in the airport were called along with a few other character witnesses. The character witnesses were there to paint a picture of who Lisa was; the compassionate, career driven young woman with everything in the world to live for. The witnesses from the airport were supposed to plant a question in the jury's mind: why would a woman who had just willingly carried out an assassination express such obvious post traumatic stress? However, Canton had delved into the fact that most of the people who saw her breakdown thought that it has been over a breakup with the young man who had been with her the few moments before it happened. The young man who more than one person saw give her a goodbye kiss on the top of her head. There were little bits of evidence submitted, circumstantial and otherwise. None of it seemed to matter anymore. Altogether, the trial lasted two weeks. Then came the moment of truth.

"Madame Foreman, have you reached a verdict?" The honorable Judge Trake asked.

"We have, your honor." The petite brunette jury head replied.

"Will the defendant please rise?" Judge Trake said.

Lisa and Donovan rose from their chairs, Lisa clutching anxiously to the older man's forearm.

Trake turned to the jury, "How do you find?"

"On the charge of conspiracy to commit murder, we the jury find the defendant, Lisa Reisert, guilty."

There was an audible rumble throughout the courtroom and Lisa felt as though her stomach had just dropped down to her ankles.

"And on the second charge?" Trake asked.

"And on the charge of conspiracy to commit a terrorist act, we the jury, find the defendant, guilty as charged."

Another rumble rolled through the crowd. Judge Trake slammed his gavel down twice and called for order. It took a moment before the people in the court finally settled down and Canton and his posse were still busy slapping each other on the back in congratulations. Finally, it grew quiet again.

"Lisa Reisert, having been found guilty on the preceding charges by a jury of your peers, you will continue your stay at the Winster Corrections Facility until nine a.m. Monday morning, upon which time sentencing will be handed down. Court is adjourned." Judge Trake said, and with a bang of his gavel, people stood and began to disperse.

Lisa spun around to hug her father, crying yet again. It seemed that all she had been doing since that damned flight was crying.

"Lisa, I don't want you to think this is the end." Donovan said, "We're going to appeal."

"Daddy." Lisa whimpered in Joe's ear and he gave her an affectionate squeeze. Her mother stood to the side, crying into her hands. She touched Lisa's arm, but she knew that it was her father that she needed right now. Lisa had always been her daddy's little girl.

"Ms. Reisert?" A gruff voice interrupted them.

Lisa looked up and into the frowning face of Detective Paul. "Hello, Detective." Lisa said.

"Ms. Reisert, I…" Paul wanted to apologize to her. He wanted to tell her that he believed her. He wanted to tell her that he was going to make it right; that he was going to find the guy that was responsible for her ending up where she was and the he was going to hurt him for her. "I wanted to say I'm very sorry."

Lisa tried as best as she could to smile at him, but her chin was quivering and fresh tears were spilling from her eyelids, so she offered him her hand instead. When he took her much smaller hand in his, she covered it with her free hand and said, "You know what, Detective? I believe you."

"It's gonna be okay, Ms. Reisert." Paul said.

Lisa had to laugh, out of incredulity; not humor. "Thanks, Detective." She said, because she thought that he needed to hear it. She gave his hand another squeeze with her own, "You know, even with all of this going on, you have always been so nice to me. Please, call me Lisa."

Paul forced a smile at her, though it came out looking more like he had a toothache than anything else. Poor girl, he thought. She didn't deserve to be here. He could feel that in his gut, and in twenty-five years on the force, his gut had seldom ever steered him in the wrong direction.

"Lisa," he said, "if this guy is still out there, I promise, I'll find him for you."

It was about then that the bailiff came and took Lisa by the elbow to lead her from the courtroom; from her parents; stealing her away from the only thing in the world that could bring her a little comfort. As she backed away from her parents, her gaze drifted to the back of the courtroom. She froze for no more than a second before the bailiff urged her on with a tug at her arm. She thought that she had seen…no. It was her imagination playing tricks on her. She was very emotional and stressed out, of course she would be conjuring up the image of the only man who could save her.

The clanking of her cell door as it closed may as well have been the swing of the executioner's axe. That was what it felt like for Lisa anyway. The prospect of spending the rest of her life in a room like this was enough to make her want to tie her bed sheets around her neck right then and there. No longer dressed in the smart black suit and heels, she was back in the bright orange one piece jumpsuit and sneakers. Sitting down on the edge of her cot, she tied her auburn hair back in a ponytail and took a breath. How had all of this happened? How had this become her life?

She looked back on the past two years, and couldn't stop the overwhelming rush of regret that she felt. Why had she allowed herself to become such an introvert? Yes, something bad had happened to her; something really bad; horrible. She had been raped. But, she had let it take over her life. Why should she be so sad now about losing her life? It wasn't as though she had been living it in the first place. Why should she be depressed about losing her freedom? She had been a prisoner in her own apartment for two years. She thought that she would be used to the idea by this point.

Shaking her head back and forth, she started to laugh. She laughed so hard that her entire body began to shake from it…but slowly, the laughter morphed. Her face contorted and the laughs turned into choking sobs that wretched through her muscles and limbs; through her bones, and she cried. She cried for all of the 'should have's, 'would have's, and 'why didn't I's. She cried for all of the turned down dinner offers, declined concert tickets, and parties that she did not attend. Her life was all of the sudden reduced to nothing more than a memory of dozens of missed opportunities. It seemed so unfair. She was only twenty seven years old!

She was laughing again now, and still crying. Laughing and crying at the same time; it came out as strangled half hearted choking sobs. If she kept this up, they would lock her up in the psychiatric ward and never let her out again. The thought wasn't entirely unappealing; that was how little she cared anymore. She threw herself down on the thin mattress and buried her face in her pillow, wanting nothing more than to cry herself to sleep.

The next morning, she received her paper as she usually did; only this time she had no desire to even pick it up. The headline had only one word, and she already knew what the rest of the article would entail. The word was: GUILTY.

The next Monday, she was once again carted off to the courthouse, this time to learn what was to become of her. The thought of her sentencing made her more anxious than the actual trial had made her. She had always had a pretty clear concept of what direction the trial was going to go in; but the sentencing was an entirely different story. Maybe it was better not to know.

Once again, she was dressed in one of her finer dress suits and a pair of stilettos. She sat at the table with Donovan. Her mother, father, and Cynthia were all gathered behind her, along with a multitude of other people filling up the courtroom. Paul and Aberman were there.

Detective Aberman seemed to be glowing with pride. She was, after all, his collar. He had come to see the swift hand of justice delivered. Detective Paul on the other hand, appeared to be nauseated by the whole situation. He reached a hand into his pocket and gave his rosary a squeeze as he said a silent prayer for the judge to have mercy. He should have been pissed at himself for getting so attached to a suspect, but she just didn't fit the profile. He simply could not wrap his mind around the idea of her willingly participating in so much as a flag burning protest, let alone the annihilation of a government official.

Everyone rose from their seats as the judge entered, then sat down once again. Court was a lot like being at mass, Paul thought to himself, a whole bunch of sitting and standing and sitting and standing.

"Will the defendant please rise?" The honorable Judge Trake said.

Donovan rose with Lisa, placing his hand on her arm as a show of moral support.

The judge looked tired, as though he hadn't slept in a week. He looked the way Lisa felt inside. His cold gray eyes had dark, dark circles underneath them and the little bit of hair that he still had seemed tasseled and unkempt. His face seemed to have aged ten years since the last time she had seen him, which hadn't been five days ago. He was a judge, therefore he had to constantly think about his political career, which did not bode well for Lisa. The public wanted blood for what had happened to Keefe; or to be more specific, the public wanted her blood.

"Miss Reisert," the worn out old judge began, "I have been over this case a dozen times in my head at this point. While your attorney did an excellent job of painting a picture of you as a young lady of impeccable character, all of the evidence seems to point to the contrary. You were convicted by a jury of your peers and due to the heinousness of your crime, I feel that I have no other choice but to sentence you to a lifetime in Fordon's maximum security prison…without the possibility of parole."

The Earth seemed to shift beneath her feet and Lisa felt her knees buckle. For a moment, she feared that she would not be able to remain standing for very much longer. No possibility of parole. She had been expecting the life sentence, but she had been expecting the twenty five years to life sentence. But, no, she was never going to be free again. For crying out loud, she wasn't a member of the Manson clan; she was a hotel manager who had been forced to make a phone call! Give her twenty five years for being a coward, but not life in a dark dank concrete tomb!

"I would like to submit my notice to appeal." Donovan's voice came from her side, though he sounded much farther away.

"So noted." Judge Trake said, before banging his gavel and adjourning the session. He stood, as did the crowd, and then he disappeared into his chambers.

Lisa turned to Donovan, her eyes wide and obviously terrified.

"No, no, Lisa," Donovan said, "We're going to appeal. They're trying to make an example of you and we're not going to let them do that."

Finally, her weak knees gave out and she fell backwards into her chair. "So," she began in a tiny voice, "do I go straight to the maximum security prison from here?"

"No," Donovan said, "they won't transfer you for at least a few weeks, and not at all once I get the appeal through."

At those words she sprang to her feet and latched onto her parents with both arms. She opened her eyes and took in the departing audience. They all seemed blurred and were moving in slow motion; nothing more than a haze of color and muffled voices. She singled out Detective Aberman, leaning against a bench, looking pompous and pleased with himself. Then, she saw Detective Paul who gave her a sad smile. He looked so sad, she couldn't bear to look at him at the moment. She continued to scan the room with her eyes, until they landed on something disturbingly familiar. She locked gazes with a pair of crystalline blue eyes.

Readjusting her focus to take in all of the facial features she saw, yes, it was! It was him! At first, she thought to herself that it had to have been a hallucination. So, she blinked her eyes, telling herself that he would be gone when she reopened them. But, he was still there, leaning ever so casually against the back wall, his hand tucked into the pockets of his slacks. Jackson Rippner was standing in the back of the freaking courtroom! Everything switched from slow motion into hyper-drive; Lisa broke away from her parents and went to lunge herself over the banister that separated court spectators from participators. Donovan caught her by the arm to stop her, casting a nervous glance over at the bailiff.

"Rippner!" she screamed, pointing, "Detective Paul! That's him!"

Jackson flashed a charming smile and winked at her just before he slipped through the door while every other person in the room had turned to gaze at Lisa as she screamed.

Paul zeroed in on her as soon as she had called his name.

"He's here!" she shouted, "Rippner! He's at the back!"

She tore herself away from Donovan and tried once again to leap over the banister, only to be pulled up short by the bailiff. Paul hadn't needed anymore encouragement than her panic. He began to shoulder his way through the dispersing crowd toward the double doors located at the back of the room even as Lisa was being restrained by the bailiff. He pushed and shoved and not so politely nudged his way through the thick mass of people until finally he poured out into the hallway of the courthouse with his gun drawn.

**Author's Note: **Well, that's it for now. Again, so sorry for the long wait, but don't forget to review!!!


	4. Chapter Three: Not There

**Author's Note: **I apologize profusely for the incredibly long delay in updating. I have no excuse…actually I do…it's called my senior thesis…still…I respectfully beg your forgiveness. I am ever at your mercy. In light of one particular review that called apologies empty, I must say that I am not certain when the next update will be because I am in fact swamped with my thesis, not to mention a paper due for my Shakespeare course, but I promise I will update as soon as I am naturally able. Thanks…now, I'm going to shut up and let you read.

**Chapter Three: Not there**

"What do you mean, he wasn't there?" Lisa asked, her elbows braced on the table in front of her and her forehead in her hands, "How does somebody just disappear from a public courthouse?"

"Maybe he was never there to begin with." Detective Aberman suggested, winning himself 'go to hell' looks from damn near everyone else in the room.

They were currently seated in one of the small holding areas. After Lisa's outburst, Detective Paul had torn from the courtroom into the hall to find that there was no one outside to match Lisa's description of the infamous Jackson Rippner. She sat there now looking crestfallen and utterly defeated. Her mother and father sat on either side of her, while Donovan stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder; every so often giving a gentle squeeze that was meant to be comforting.

"He probably managed to duck a corner before I even got out of the room, Lisa." Paul said, trying his best to throw in what little comfort he could offer. A ridiculous notion, really, considering the poor girl was about to go to prison for the rest of her natural life and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it.

"Paul," Aberman said, "why are you catering to her delusions?"

"I am _not_ deluded." Lisa said sharply, looking up from her hands. Her jaw was clenched in restrained anger and there was so much heat to her stare that Paul was just waiting for Aberman to spontaneously burst into flames before his very eyes. Then, she turned her face to him and her eyes were once again wide and soft, though they now held a spark of determination instead of sadness, "He was there."

Aberman let out a loud snort before leaning down angrily into Lisa's face, bracing himself on the table with both hands, palms flat, "We're police officers, sweetheart." He sneered, "We don't have time to go off on every wild goose chase that some psychopathic bitch tries to send us on."

In what seemed to be less than the blink of an eye, Lisa's knees were on top of the table and she had a hold of Aberman by his shirt collar. She had had just about all that she could stand of this guy and she wasn't going to simply sit there and take it anymore. She would strangle him with his cheap department store tie first. What were they gonna do to her? Send her to the electric chair and shorten the sentence?

Paul wedged himself in between them and Donovan jerked Lisa back off of the tabletop. The two of them landed in a heap on the floor and Donovan fought to get a hold of her again, as she was trying to get back to Aberman, who Paul currently had pinned against the wall with his forearm burrowed harshly into the younger man's chest.

"Lisa, calm down!" Paul demanded.

"Yeah," Aberman snapped, "stay on the ground you crazy bitch!"

That sent Lisa into another fit of hysterics and she began to struggle even harder against Donovan's grasp. Her mother was soon on the ground with them, rubbing her daughter's forehead and cooing into her ear. Joe, however, was on his feet and from the look on his face, Paul figured that if he had had a gun at the moment, he'd be the one on trial for murder.

Paul turned his attention to his partner. He grabbed the younger man by the shoulders and slammed him hard up against the wall. Aberman let out a yelp as the back of his head smacked against the drywall. He looked at Paul with betrayal.

"What the hell…"

But the older detective cut him off. "Now, you listen to me and you listen good," Paul hissed in Aberman's ear, "You've been my partner for a couple of months now, and you seemed like an okay kid. But, if I hear one more comment like that about this girl, I'll throw you into a room alone with her father, lock the door for an hour, and swear on the Bible that I saw you throw the first punch. Do you understand me?"

"Paul…"

"Yes or no, Detective?"

"Yes." Aberman growled and Paul released him.

Everyone climbed to their feet and began the process running their hands along themselves, smoothing out their ruffled clothes, just as the door opened. An older prison guard came strutting in. He had driven Lisa to court a few times before. He wasn't a very nice man. He was short with black hair in a military buzz cut. If you asked Lisa, he had a bad case of little big man syndrome.

"Everything all right in here?" he asked, hooking his thumbs through his waist holster and placing his feet shoulder width apart; a man of action.

"Everything's fine, officer." Paul answered for everyone.

"Well, I need to get Miss Reisert back, now." Little big man said.

"No." Lisa's mother cried, wrapping her arms around her daughter in a futile act of protection.

Lisa gave her mother a hug. She did likewise with her father and Donovan. She touched Detective Paul's arm affectionately as she passed him and suppressed the urge to stomp on Aberman's foot with her stiletto heel. Then, the unfriendly guard cuffed her hands behind her back and began to walk her from the building. Lisa cast a glance over her shoulder and locked eyes with her father until the door to the holding room shut and he was no longer visible. With the click of that door, a large piece of her broke inside.

She held her breath as the overcompensating little guard lead her through the deserted halls of the courthouse. He walked just a little too close to her, his hand gripped her arm just a little too tightly, and she didn't like how he kept glancing at her from the corner of his eye. He reminded her of a lecherous teacher from her high school that had been fired the year she graduated because he had been caught jerking off in the girls' locker room. Her instincts told her to twist away from his clammy hands, but she knew that that would only serve to give him cause to touch her even more and with much more force. So, she walked along quietly and offered him no resistance.

The sun was blindingly bright and the air was thick, damp, and muggy as they emerged from the backdoor of the courthouse. The area was completely empty, as it was reserved for prisoner transfer and the like. The guard opened the back door of his marked car and put his hand on the top of her head as he pushed her inside.

"Watch you head, darlin'." He said.

The pet name rubbed Lisa the wrong way, like a slimy slug moving across her skin, but she bit her tongue. He started to reach his hand down to push her legs in, but she reacted before he could touch her; swiftly pulling both in at once. He snickered and straightened to close the door. Then, through the window, Lisa watched in shock as a well dressed torso appeared and drove its knee up hard into little big man guard's back. The torso's hands caught the guard by the back of the collar and forced him to bend down, and then proceeded to slam his head in the car door three times. Lisa screamed and shoved herself to the other side of the backseat as she watched her guard's body fall limply from his assailant's hands. Lisa pressed her back against the car door, fumbling blindly for the door handle but she couldn't seem to find it. That's when her assailant ducked his head into the car.

"Hey, Leese." Jackson said with a devil may care grin.

Lisa screamed.

Jackson reached in, caught her by the ankle, which were kicking violently at him, and dragged her back across the seat to him. He pulled her legs all the way out of the car and then jerked her up by her upper arms. Once she was on her feet, Lisa threw her head back into Jackson's, forcing him to stumble backwards. As soon as she had some distance, Lisa ran for the courthouse. Jackson caught her by her arms and slung her around behind him, so that her back ended up slamming hard into the side of the car. Her heels caught on her guard's body and she nearly fell, but managed somehow by the grace of God to keep her balance; much more difficult than one might think considering she didn't have use of her arms; and in high heels no less. Still, she launched herself for the door to the courthouse once again, only to have Jackson catch her by the waist. He lifted her off of her feet with ease; but he dropped her when she managed to knee him in the side. She landed hard on her back and cried out as she crushed her arms beneath her.

"Damn it, Lisa." Jackson muttered, grabbing her yet again. This time, he slung her over his shoulder fireman style, pinning her legs together with his arms.

"Let me go!" Lisa cried.

"I can't, Leese." Jackson said flippantly, "It must be you winning personality."

"I said let me GO!" she screamed.

Jackson winced, certain that she had managed to burst on of his eardrums with all of her screaming. If nothing less, she was definitely going to attract some unwanted attention to the situation. He trotted her over to a still running Mercedes SUV and tossed her into the back floorboard. He was in the driver's seat and going before Lisa had even figured out which way was up.

She finally did manage to right herself, then she pushed herself up onto the bench seat and stared wide eyed into the driver's seat. Her mouth hung open as though the devil himself had just materialized in front of her. Oh, wait. He had.

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and turned her face to the side, repeating to herself, "This has to be a bad dream. This has to be a bad dream. This has to be a bad dream."

"Afraid not, Leese." Came the male voice that was forever and ever emblazoned in her memory.

She opened her watery eyes only to find a pair of breathtaking blue ones staring back at her from the rearview mirror. She narrowed her eyelids. "Take me back to the courthouse." She demanded, struggling to keep her voice even.

"So," Jackson chuckled, "a lifetime in prison is better than a day with me. I'm gonna have to put that one on my resume."

"Right above scrawny murdering bastard?" Lisa snapped.

"Oh. Ouch." Jackson mocked.

Lisa took a deep breath to steady her thinking. She could get out of this; she just needed to think. "Well, if you're going to kidnap me, will you at least un-cuff me?"

"What?" Jackson gasped, "Come on, Leese. The highlighter, the fake phone call, that little trick with the soap…you're resourceful. Figure something out."

Despite the fact that she was fully aware that it was a childish gesture, Lisa kicked the back of his seat as hard as she could.

"Hey!" He said, "I will turn this car around!"

Letting the air out of her lungs, Lisa sat back in the seat and looked out her window. Then, she thought about a million B action movies that she had seen in her adolescence and lifted her hips. Cynthia's face flashed through her mind as she began to work her arms downward. As she continued to shuffle, she thought of Mr. Keefe, her mother, her father. After a few minutes of continuous and vigorous wiggling, she stepped her feet out from in front of the chain and lifted her hands; still cuffed, but in front of her. That was when the image of Keefe's children's round little faces when streaming through her mind.

Jackson, who had been watching through his mirror, chimed, "That's my girl."

No sooner had the words left his mouth had Lisa thrown her arms around his neck and pulled the chain of the handcuffs back tight across his throat. She braced one foot on the console that sat between the two front seats and the other on the side of the interior, pushing herself as far back as she could to tighten the chain. Jackson had jerked the steering wheel to the side once, out of surprise when Lisa had first made her move. Then, he had somehow turned frighteningly calm as he slowly guided the SUV over to the shoulder of the road and stopped. Despite his steady lack of oxygen, he managed to hit the emergency lights and slam the shifter into park. Then, he took hold of the handle on the side of his seat and pulled, sending his chair flying backwards which knocked Lisa off balance and into the floorboard.

Jackson flipped onto his stomach and scrambled into the backseat with her. Lisa attempted to swing her balled up fists at him, but he blocked the blow with his forearm, caught her by the hair at the back of her head and jerked her back up into the seat beside him. He used his free hand to pin her bound fists to her chest, his other still tangled in her hair; he pulled he close.

"Was that really necessary, Lisa?" he breathed against her face, his lips brushing her cheek with every word. He inhaled deeply the sweet scent of her skin.

Her bottom lip had begun to tremble, but she refused to cry in front of this man anymore. She had done that too many times. "You ruined my life." She spat.

To say that his next words shocked her, would be like saying Freddy Krueger was a scary guy. It just didn't quite cover it.

"Fair enough." He said, and let go of her.

She blinked at him. Twice. He fished through his pants pockets and pulled out a small set of keys, motioning for her to give him her hands. Lisa obeyed, her face drawn tight in skepticism. Jackson unlocked her handcuffs and then climbed back into the front seat, tossing the cuffs into the middle console. Lisa just kind of sat there in the backseat, staring at him. He glanced back at her over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows.

"Are you gonna come sit up here or stay back there?" He asked.

She was halfway tempted to pout like a petulant child and cross her arms with an angry glare, but instead, not entirely sure as to why, she soon found herself shimmying her way into the front passenger seat beside Jackson. He fastened his seatbelt and fixed her with a pointed look until she buckled hers as well. He flipped off the emergency lights and then guided the SUV back out onto the road.

At the same time…

"Fuck!" Aberman bellowed as police officers swarmed over the back parking lot of the public courthouse, "I cannot believe that bi…" Paul looked at him, "that girl escaped!"

Paul turned in a few slow circles, his cop's eyes taking in every detail and storing it into his memory.

"You still think this girl isn't in it up to her fucking ears?" Aberman sneered from beside him.

"Oh, I think she's in it plenty deep," Paul said, still memorizing the scene, "just not by her own choice."

"We're putting out an APB and praying to everything holy that there aren't a whole mess of nutjobs out there that want a claim to fame. A terrorist escape! Talk about great publicity!" Aberman said, sticking his cell phone to his ear.

Paul bit down on the corner of his mouth. Something about this scene didn't feel right to him. He couldn't point it out yet, but there was something about it that was off. He paused as his eyes landed on something at the corner of the doorway to the courthouse. He whacked Aberman on the shoulder and pointed up at the small security camera. "We're gonna need to see that tape."

"Holy shit." Aberman said, lowering his phone.

On the road…

Lisa couldn't stop herself from wringing her hands together as she kept casting nervous glances at Jackson. She couldn't believe that she was riding in a car with Jackson Rippner! It seemed like any second someone would pop out of the backseat and reveal it to be the world's cruelest and most twisted practical joke.

"Can I ask you a question?" she said, unable to stop her tongue.

Jackson sighed without taking his eyes off of the road, "Don't you always?"

"Why me?" she asked, tears threatening her eyes as she thought about it all, but she forced them back.

"I told you already," he answered, "you were the only one who could get the job done."

"There were other stops on his tour." She countered, "Other hotels. Other managers. Why did you have to pick me?"

He blew out a breath, popped his neck to the side, then looked at her, "You want the truth?"

His eyes were so serious and clear and blue, Lisa searched for the words to reply, but couldn't seem to find her voice. It was as though he had paralyzed her with that cerulean stare of his. Had she really managed to forget how pretty his eyes were? Sure, they were cold and dangerous and deadly, but they were very pretty. So pretty that she had forgotten how to speak for the moment. She did, however, manage to nod.

"You were the perfect mark." He said simply, not harshly but nonchalantly, turning those eyes back to the road ahead of him, "A loner. Workaholic. No real social life to speak of. An exceptionally close relationship that could be exploited in your father. You would be easy to charm; to get close to. Easy to scare. To control."

Lisa began to tremble as he listed off his profile of her; the same way she had trembled on the plane when he had described her daily routines to her.

"You seemed vulnerable; weak." He went on, "But, my intelligence on you was incomplete. Something was overlooked. Something that could have, and almost did, lead to a fatal mistake on my part. Something that had turned you into a pretty determined fighter."

Lisa's hand flew subconsciously to her chest. She hadn't even realized the movement, but Jackson did. He looked over at her, thinking about that ugly mark on her pale skin. The fact that someone had felt that they had had some right to touch her was just short of blasphemy in his opinion. It was true, he had observed her longer than was necessary; much longer in fact. He couldn't seem to help himself, but he found practically everything she did perfection. Every look, every smile, every graceful move, every auburn curl on her head. The fact that someone had forced his way inside of her; violated her radiance; well, that infuriated him to no end.

He hadn't known about it at the time of the flight, but he had been following her trial and he needed to know what they had on her. That's why God made police records…and hackers. That's how he had learned about her rape. That's how he found out about the man that put a knife to her throat while he desecrated her before cutting into her; blemishing her smooth, perfect skin. Rape disgusted Jackson. He felt it to be the lowest thing anyone could ever do to another person…and he was paid to kill people.

"Tell me about it." He said.

"What?" Lisa asked, pretending to have no idea what he was talking about. Then, she noticed her hand and immediately dropped it to her lap.

Jackson's mind flashed back to the police report. Some cracked out junkie had cornered her in a mall parking lot with a hunting knife. When Jackson thought about what that filth had done to her, waves of anger washed over him and he had to take several deep breaths to rein in his temper.

"It wasn't your fault." He said.

Lisa's gaze zoomed in on him. "What did you say?"

"It wasn't your fault." Jackson repeated, "What he did to you, it was beyond your control."

Lisa laughed, but like so much of her laughter these days, there was no humor in it. "You know, I used to tell myself that nothing like that was ever gonna happen to me again. Then, you came along."

"Well, that was out of your control, too."

Lisa felt her stare hardening, her jaw tightening, her body tensing. She wanted to hurt him. With every fiber of her being, she wanted to stand over him and watch him writhe in pain. "You think so?"

"Please," Jackson huffed in a truly cocky, Jackson way, "you were three thousand feet above the ground with a trained killer outside of your dad's house. What were you supposed to do?"

"That's true." Lisa said, unfastening her seatbelt and leaning closer to him, "But now, we're at ground level and you have no one waiting to butcher my father."

She was just about to attack, when he spoke.

"You know what, you're right." He said this as he veered the SUV to the side of the road, then off of the road and into a field. He kept going until they were about a hundred and fifty yards away from the road and then stopped. He shifted into park, shut off the engine, unbuckled his own seatbelt and turned toward her, his eyes sparkling with menace.

The look in his eyes let Lisa know quite abruptly what it was that she had gotten herself into. She grabbed the door handle and flung open the door just as Jackson moved to reach for her. She lost her footing as she hurriedly stumbled to the ground and fell to her hands and knees. She staggered clumsily back up to her feet just as the slamming of the driver's side door sounded and Jackson came flying around the front of the vehicle. She raced off through the field with Jackson hot on her heels.

Catching him completely off guard, Lisa stopped her motion instantly, spun around and punched him in the face. He couldn't stop his lower body's forward momentum and his legs flew out from under him, causing him to land flat on his back. As soon as he was down, Lisa delivered a swift kick to his ribs with the pointed toe of her high heel. She kicked him again, but he was ready for her this time. He caught her ankle and pulled her to the ground with him. He jumped to his knees and grabbed for her. She punched him again and he responded by backhanding her across the face. She rolled to the side, out of his grasp and climbed to her feet. Jackson got to his feet as well and closed the distance between them. He caught her by the hair and pulled her to him, pressing the length of his body into her backside and holding her there with one hand in her hair and the other around her waist.

"I always knew you had the killer instinct in you, Leese." He said seductively into her ear.

At that, Lisa reached behind her, grabbed him between the legs and dug her fingernails in. She heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by a quiet, high pitched whimper. She squeezed harder. Another whimper and Jackson released his grip on her. Lisa let him go and turned around just as he dropped to his knees.

"I'm sorry," she cooed, "did you need those?"

Jackson looked up at her, baring his teeth like a wolf. He growled from somewhere deep inside of his throat. Lisa took a tentative step back as if afraid to make any sudden movements. And just like that, he had her again. She hadn't even seen him move, but she was soon on the ground with him on top of her. He held her down by the shoulders and stared at her, as though trying to decide what he should do to her; and something told her that the options would not be anything categorically pleasant. Lisa took advantage of his indecision, reaching up and taking a handful of his hair and jerking to the side, rolling the two of them into switching positions. Soon enough, they found themselves stuck at an impasse. She was on top of him, straddling his hips so his body was pinned to the ground and he had hold of both of her wrists, spread out wide. Their chests were pressed together, breathing in the same rhythm. Their faces were only inches apart. The way Jackson's eyes were boring into her own, Lisa didn't know what she was supposed to feel. He looked like he either wanted to bite her or kiss her; maybe both. And as the thoughts entered her mind, Lisa found herself excited about either prospect.

The sound of screeching tires caught their attention and they both tilted their heads upward to look toward the road. They saw the marked police car hit its brakes and start to turn around. Lisa felt her stomach tighten at the realization that she had to make a decision; while she knew that she wanted to get away from Jackson, she wasn't so sure she wanted to go back to prison. As she was having her little internal debate, Jackson seized opportunity of her distraction. He jerked her wrist to the side and punched her across the face as hard as he could. Unprepared for the blow, Lisa lost consciousness, her body falling limp across Jackson's chest.

**Author's Note: **That's it for now! Please let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter Four: Close Call

**Author's Note: **I know, I know, long time, no chapter. But, here's the next update!!! I'm sorry for how long the delays are in between the chapters, but again, you're just gonna have to bear with me. It's frustrating for me, as well, not being able to just sit down and write whenever I want to. Anyways, I really hope you like this chapter! Don't forget to review!

**Chapter Four: Close Call**

It had taken Jackson all of about five seconds to lose Barney Fife back in the field. A donut or two, a lot of flying dirt and grass, oh who are we kidding, the poor guy never had a chance. The hardest part about the whole scenario had been hustling Lisa's lifeless body across the field and back into the car. She wasn't what you would call a big girl, but she made for a lot of dead weight when unconscious. She had woken with a headache to find the two of them careening along the highway at a faster speed than she would ever care to remember, until they had been able to merge into traffic and become just another middle class couple on their way…speaking of…

"Where are we going?" she asked putting a hand to her forehead, or better yet, "Why am I here?"

"Not even a thank you?" Jackson asked, checking all mirrors, flipping on his turn signal, and switching lanes. Lisa almost snorted. A by the book driving psycho killer. Welcome to the millennium people!

"Thank you for what?" Lisa spat, "Destroying my world, livelihood, and all that that encompasses?"

"How about," Jackson raised his voice an octave to mock hers, "thank you, Jackson, for saving me from a lifetime in prison with oversize, masculine women."

"Oh," she chimed, "My turn! Gee, you're welcome, Leese. No kick back while I drag you into my world of fun and games with all of my terrorist buddies!"

"I'm not a terrorist, Leese." Jackson stated.

"Of course not," she countered, sarcasm practically oozing from her voice, "you're just misunderstood."

"It's true, I sometimes work for them, but I've never really considered myself to be one."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."  
"Surprisingly, I have very little trouble sleeping at night." Until recently. He kept

that little tidbit to himself, though.

"That _is _surprising." Lisa said, looking out the window, "Where are you taking me?"

"On a trip." He answered.

Lisa took a shaky breath and rubbed both hands over her face, "This is going to end badly."

"Why is that?"

"They're going to be looking for me."

"Ah, the elusive _they_."

"The FBI!" Lisa snapped, "The police. Detective Paul."

There was no stopping the distinct weight of guilt that settled into the bottom of her stomach as she thought about the kindly old detective. She wondered if he would get into trouble for her 'escape'. She hoped not. She didn't want anything bad to happen to him because of her. Although it really wasn't her fault…it was Jackson's! Just another mark to add against him on her ever growing list of offences. Screwing over the one guy that had been nice to her throughout the entire ordeal would definitely go up there in the top ten. Maybe Paul's bosses would take it all out on Detective Aberman. She was pretty sure that she could live with that.

As though he had read her mind, Jackson said, "Don't worry about Detective Paul. He has an amazing track record. The most he'll get is a slap on the wrist, if anything."

Lisa flashed him an angry look, but breathed a sigh of relief nonetheless. Deciding that she may as well get comfortable, she unbuttoned her blazer and peeled it off; plus there was the added bonus of being able to move more freely which could come in handy should she and Jackson get into another…tussle. Jackson watched the action ever so discreetly from the corner of his eye, holding his breath as she pulled her arms back and the material of her white dress shirt pulled back tight against her chest. She tossed the jacket into the backseat and settled back into her seat, leaning her head back against the headrest.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

It was a loaded question; and one that he was not quite prepared to answer just yet. Somewhere along the line, he had started to think about Lisa. He had started to think about her a lot. More than he should. She had become an infatuation, then an obsession, and then somehow she had shifted into a possession. She became a piece of property; a piece of property that belonged to him…and him alone.

"Maybe I need your assistance again." He replied with a sideways grin.

"Maybe you should go screw yourself."

"I'm not that scrawny, am I?"

The comment came from way out in left field and Lisa found herself staring at him like he was insane. "What?" She asked.

"Earlier. You called me a scrawny murdering bastard." He cast her a glance, "I am not scrawny."

She didn't know what to say to that. She didn't think that there was really anything she could say; so she opted to basically staring blankly at him, her plump pink lips parted slightly in astonishment. He calmly guided the car along the road as Lisa continued to stare at him; trying to figure out exactly what kind of game it was that he was playing.

Back at the police station…

Aberman and Paul watched the tiny black and white security tape. The tape sadly, had no sound so they couldn't hear what was being said. Aberman didn't really seem to give a damn about the contents of the tape, having already made up his mind that Lisa was a terrorist who needed to be gunned down without any hesitation; probably because she had gotten the drop on him back in the holding room at the courthouse. Paul, on the other hand, watched the tape with studious eyes, his chin and mouth covered by one hand. They watched as a man came seemingly out of nowhere and attacked Lisa's escort. Then, they watched as Lisa kicked and struggled to get away from the same man.

"Does that look like an escape to you?" Detective Paul asked the younger officer.

"Well…" Aberman began, but Paul interrupted before he could finish his sentence.

"Because it looks a hell of a lot like a kidnapping to me."

"Why would anyone kidnap a convicted terrorist?" Aberman asked, with what he thought was a great deal of logic.

Paul felt it as his eyes lit up, "What if it's Rippner?"  
"What? Coming to get his partner?"

"Coming to get rid of the witness."

Meanwhile…

Lisa stared intently at the passing scenery through the window, hands at her sides, fingers clutching at the seat cushions. Every single muscle in her body was tight and contracted as though she were preparing any moment to launch her body from the vehicle. It wasn't a half bad idea. What was the worst that could happen? Death? Big whoop. A few broken bones, maybe? With the adrenaline pulsing through her body, she could be on her feet and running without even feeling the pain. So many people talk about going into shock like it's a bad thing, but really, it could be a survival mechanism. She snuck a quick glance at the clock on the dash board before snapping her gaze back to the window. They had been on the road now for nearly five hours straight. She drummed her fingers against the side of the seat and bit down on her lower lip as her mind worked frantically to think of some way out of this situation. If she could just get out of this car, just get one moment to herself, surely she could find an escape. She was good at thinking on her feet; if only she could get on her damn feet!

She had been staring out the window for the past hour and a half. It seemed safer than looking anywhere in the vicinity of Jackson. Her emotions got all dark and twisted when she looked at him; she didn't know what to do or how to think. He had still managed to retain some kind of power over her; a draw if you will; and she was ready to risk life and limb to break it. And there was that little voice in that back of her head that was asking over and over why had he come for her? Why _had _he come for her? What did he have planned? The little voice seemed to be demanding the answer, but then there was the other part of her that was certain she was better off never knowing.

Her eyes kept shifting from the window to the door handle as she again thought about just kicking it open and leaping out. A sudden shift of the car's direction drew her attention as Jackson guided it onto an exit ramp and pulled into a gas station. Her body tensed up even more, if that was even possible. Opportunity had just presented itself; screaming TA-DA as it did so. After shifting the gear into park, Jackson popped the lid on the gas tank and climbed out of the driver's seat to the pump. At the same instant his door closed, Lisa jerked on her own door's handle, cracking it open just the slightest bit. She kept her gaze fixed on Jackson to make sure that he hadn't heard it; to make sure he didn't suspect anything. All she had to do was get out of the car and into that gas station before he got hold of her. Once she was inside, the attendant could call the cops, Detective Paul could come and pick her up, they would catch Jackson and everything would be okay. Everyone would be safe.

She was just about to make her move, when a tan and brown state trooper car pulled up to the station. He heart began beating a little bit harder in her chest with excitement. Unable to believe her luck, she glanced quickly again to Jackson, who had taken notice of the police vehicle, but continued to pump gas and look disturbingly normal. It bothered Lisa how he managed to blend in so well, especially because _she_ could see the tension in his body; she could sense his alertness; his readiness. How had she become so attuned to his physical mannerisms?

She shook the question out of her head as soon as it had entered and turned her attention once again to the trooper that was a mere thirty feet from where she sat. So close. She could get there. She knew that she could get there. She could get to him; and if she could get to him…then everything would be okay. Her fingers tightened on the door; her body preparing to launch itself from the vehicle with every ounce of strength that was left in it. One more look at Jackson and then she was gone.

But when she peered over her shoulder, her eyes made direct contact with his shimmering blue ones and in that instant…she knew that he knew what she was about to try.

Without a second's hesitation or thought, she threw open the door and flung herself from the confines of her seat; stumbling ever so slightly when her high heel clad feet landed unsteadily on the asphalt. She sprinted gracelessly forward toward the policeman who had turned in her direction. She didn't need to look over her shoulder to know that Jackson was already around the front of the car and hot on her heels.

"Help!" she cried out, "Help me, please!"

She watched as one of the trooper's hands went to the gun on his hip, his thumb flicking upward to unlatch it. She got about two feet away when her toe caught on the pavement and sent her lurching forward. The trooper reached out and caught her before she landed face first on the ground, and Lisa instantly clung to him; her fingers twisting with desperation into the material of his uniform. "Please, help me." She repeated, "He's going to kill me."

The trooper straightened with her in his arms and steadied her on her feet before pushing her behind him for safety. Lisa allowed herself to breathe again. It was a welcome feeling. The officer was young; mid to late twenties; he was muscular and stocky with fantastic biceps. His dirty blonde hair was buzz cut short and spiky on the top and it suited him well. Surely, he could protect her.

Jackson was striding toward them; slow; confident; predatory. Just like that, Lisa's breaths turned once again into short hysterical little spurts. Jackson was a determined man who was completely arrogant and sure of himself; with every reason to be. He was after all, a trained killer.

"Sir," the trooper said, "I'm gonna have to ask you to stop where you are."

"My girlfriend," Jackson said, still moving toward them and without missing a beat, "she can be just a little dramatic."

Unable to stop herself, Lisa called out, "Screw you, Jack!"

"Honey!" Jackson sing-sang.

"Sir, do not come any closer." The trooper demanded again.

"All due respect, officer," Jackson said, he was now less than an arm's length away, "this is between me and Leese."

"Sir…"

The officer never got the chance to finish his sentence. Lisa hadn't seen the moment Jackson had struck; she hadn't even seen him move, but she had seen it when the trooper's body suddenly went completely tense. Then his knees had buckled from beneath him and he crumpled to the ground as Jackson removed the four-inch dagger that he had just introduced to his jugular. Jackson let out a sigh, pulling a white handkerchief from his pants pocket and wiping the bloodstained blade with it, at the same time glaring at Lisa from the tops of his eyes.

Lisa drew in a shaky breath and darted to the side, but in one swift motion, Jackson closed the distance between them and caught her by the arms, slamming her brutally against the side of the car. He used his body to pin her back against the car and caught her under the chin with his hand, putting his face right up against hers in a position that was incredibly reminiscent to the one from the airplane bathroom.

"Oh, no you don't." He hissed. He threw a glance to the window of the gas station to see that the clerk was already on the phone; calling in the Calvary. Fan-fucking-tastic. He turned his face back to Lisa, locking his eyes onto hers so that she couldn't look away from him if she had wanted to, "Listen to me, Leese, and you listen to me very carefully. If you get us caught, you'll go back to jail. If you go back to jail, I won't be able to help you."

Lisa's brow drew together in confusion, but before she could ask what is was that he meant, he continued.

"If you go back to jail, you will die." He said.

"W-what?" she stuttered.

"Die, Lisa. Dead. Cease to be alive."

"That doesn't…"

Jackson could hear the faint wailing on police sirens in the distance. They needed to wrap things up and get going. "I don't really have time to explain this right now, Lisa."

Without giving her the time to process everything, he latched onto her upper arm in a vice-like grip and dragged her back to her car; thrusting her into the passenger seat and shutting the door. They peeled out of the gas station parking lot, taking the hose from the gas pump with them. Lisa sat in the front seat, staring blankly out the windshield for what seemed like an eternity before Jackson finally spoke to break her out of her trance-like state.

"That was exciting." He said once the gas station was no more than a tiny little speck in the rearview mirror.

Lisa felt sick to her stomach as reality dawned on her. She was on the run from the law _with _Jackson Rippner! What strange twisted fucked up twilight zone was this? She sat there in her seat, staring straight ahead at the multitude of cars in front of them, backtracking through the steps of the day and trying to figure out exactly how this had happened when Jackson broker her thoughts.

"You okay, Leese?" he asked.

"What?" she looked at him, "Oh, no. I mean, yeah! Yes. I'm fine. I just…I was just trying to figure out how this happened."

"_This _meaning…"

"Meaning me in a car with you; the two of us together and running from the good guys."

Jackson chuckled, "There are no good guys."

"What do you mean there are no good guys? Of course, there are good guys."

"Nope. No good guys. No bad guys. No black or white. Just different shades of gray all around."

"Is that how you justify what you do for a living?" Lisa asked.

"No," Jackson said with that cocky sideways grin of his, "My Swiss bank account justifies what I do for a living."

Lisa wanted to slap him. What he did for a living happened to be that thing that had ruined her life, and to him it had meant nothing more than a paycheck! She squeezed her fist around the armrest of her seat so hard that her knuckles turned white as she glared into the side of Jackson's face.

"I don't like you." She said.

"Awe, I find you charming." Jackson mocked in return.

Lisa continued to give his perfect profile an evil look as she began grinding her teeth. Finally, she reached over, flipped on the radio and looked away from him, crossing her arms over her chest. The scenery flying past the window soon lulled her into a rather relaxed state and it wasn't long before she dozed off all together.

At task force headquarters…

"Okay," Detective Paul said standing in front of a dry erase board already marked up with facts and a timeline of Lisa's disappearance, "what do we know?"

Gathered around him sat the other five members of the task force. Aberman, the techno weenie Felix, Special Agent Marlowe, a stocky football player type with surprising smarts, his partner Special Agent Jenkins, petite blonde with big brown eyes and from what Paul had heard, a hell of a right hook, and last but not least, Federal Marshal McGall. He was a pistol. Four medals of commendation and so very many higher ups eating out of his hand it made Paul sick to think about it.

"We know that Reisert claimed to see this Rippner character at her sentencing." Marlowe chimed, "Right after that she was snatched by an UNSUB."

Paul liked him.

"Could have been a setup." Aberman threw out there, "Scream bogeyman before having someone some in to stage a kidnapping."

"Seems a little farfetched." Jenkins added.

"We can't rule anything out at this point." The big bad Federal Marshal with favors to burn threw in his two cents worth.

"Okay," Felix said, the voice of generation X reasoning, "say this John Doe is this guy Rippner. Why would he take her? Why risk getting caught to snatch a girl whose story nobody believed anyway?"

"Exactly!" Aberman chirped, "If this is the phantom terrorist, then he came to save his partner!"

Just like that, everybody started talking at once, throwing out theories and possible whereabouts, and Paul leaned back against the dry erased board, not even caring that he would come away with black and red smudges on his shirt. All of the voices were blurring into each other in his mind until he couldn't distinguish one from the other. He shook them out of his head and took a breath through his nose. He just didn't think that Lisa was playing him. Now, this guy had her and they had no idea where he was taking her or what he was going to do to her. And, this group of cops all sitting around still talking about whether or not they thought that she was guilty wasn't going to help her in the slightest.

At the same time…

Lisa jostled awake as Jackson drove a little too quickly over a speed bump. She sat up straight in her seat and rubbed the sleep from her eyes with her fists, before taking in their surroundings. They were in a parking garage.

"Where are we?" she asked, her voice crusty. She cleared her throat. Without saying anything, Jackson reached behind him and pulled a bottle of water from the back floorboard which he then offered to her. She thanked him and took a sip. In the middle of her drink she heard it; the unmistakable sound of jet engines roaring to life. She nearly spit out her mouthful of water. "You have got to be kidding me!"

Jackson looked at her just before he guided the SUV into a parking space.

"I am not getting on an airplane with you! Are you insane?" Lisa spat.

He shifted the car into park and turned his body toward her, "I promise not to make you use the phone."

Lisa shook her head, "Not happening."

"Considering the present circumstances, Leese, it's really the only option." Jackson said, his tone completely calm and even. He was trying to get her to see things from his point of view; the rational point of view.

"Well then, you had better start thinking of another one," Lisa quipped, "because I am not getting on a plane with a murderer."

"First I'm a terrorist. Now I'm a murderer."

"You killed Charles Keefe!"

"No I didn't." Jackson replied, then saw the flash of guilt cross Lisa's face; hell, it was impossible to miss. He added, "And neither did you."

"Oh, then who did?"

"A very big explosion."

"Unbelievable."

"Lisa, you're gonna have to trust me a little."

"Trust you? Why should I trust you?" Lisa chimed incredulously, "You haven't even told me why I'm here! Or why you're doing this!"

"I have my reasons." Jackson replied vaguely. Not the least of which was guilt, curiosity, lust, desire, obsession…just to name a few that is.

"Well, until you clue me in on those _reasons_, I'm not going anywhere with you."

Jackson found himself smiling. There was that same stubbornness that he had found so refreshing during the flight; that same determination. "Well, I'm not going to tell you my reasons just yet, Lisa. Let's just say…I have an interest in you."

"I don't know whether to be flattered or terrified." Lisa said flatly.

Jackson laughed again, "Probably a little bit of both."

**Author's Note: **Well, that's all for now!!! Please, please, please, let me know what you think. Please. 


	6. Chapter Five: Flying

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews

**Author's Note: **Okay, I know that it has been an insanely long time since I updated this story, but I just wanted everyone to know that I am still alive, I do still intend to finish this piece. I just sort of dropped off the edge of the world there for a little bit. Hopefully, this chapter doesn't disappoint you all who have waited SO patiently for my update. Let me know what you think! Thanks so much!!

**Chapter Five: Flying**

Lisa was unnerved by the sudden rush of warmth that flooded through her body at the sound of his laughter. It was a pleasant sound; one that somehow put her at ease when that was the last thing in the world that she should be feeling. She still didn't trust him, but what other choice did she have right now? Turn herself in? Go to prison for the rest of her life? She stared into his eyes for another moment before taking a deep breath.

"All right." She said.

"Good." Jackson said, turning off the car and pushing his door open, "Wait right there."

He disappeared from his seat, shutting the door behind him. A second later, Lisa heard him pop the back hatch and she watched the top of his head in the rearview mirror as he rifled around in the back of the vehicle. Not two minutes later, he appeared at her window. She opened her door and he held something out to her. She looked from the object in his hand to his face, back to the object, then up to his face again.

"You're joking, right?" she said.

Jackson felt himself smirk, "Not even a little."

He held in his hand a very long, very blonde wig. Then he pulled a small black hair tie from his pants pocket and offered that to her as well. The whole thing seemed laughable to Lisa, but Jackson wasn't laughing so she did as she was told. She secured her hair back with the tie then covered it with the wig as Jackson disappeared once again behind the car. To her surprise, it looked very realistic. She looked younger beneath all that blonde. With everything that had happened, all the trials and interviews and testimonies, the stress of it all had taken its toll on her; she didn't think that she would ever have a youthful appearance again, but looking at her reflection in the window of the Mercedes, she had to admit she looked almost like a teenager again. Well, maybe not a teenager but definitely in her mid-twenties. She smoothed the straight blonde locks down with the palms of her hands before making her way back to the back of the SUV where Jackson was still standing.

He continued to dig through a black duffle bag and Lisa leaned a shoulder against the side of the SUV. "What are you doing?"

"Finding these." He replied, straightening and handing her a small blue passport.

She flipped open the tiny booklet and was surprised to find a picture of herself with the same hairstyle as the wig she now wore. The name on the passport was Hilary Trent. She watched as Jackson checked his own passport before tucking it into the inner pocket of his jacket. He handed her a tasteful black purse, which she stared at blankly for a moment, just enough time for him to pry off the license plate of the Mercedes and put a different, out-of-state plate on it. He zipped up the duffle bag and threw it over his shoulder, then pulled a very large black rolling suitcase from the back and shut the hatch.

"This all seems very planned out." She said as he clicked the lock button on his keychain.

"I'm good at planning." Jackson said and began walking.

Lisa stood in place for a moment as though in a trance, then kicked herself out of it and trotted to catch up to him, matching his stride and pace once she was by his side. She opened the purse he had given her to find it stocked with normal everyday items. There was a wallet, more than likely complete with ID and credit cards in the same name as her passport, a bottle of her favorite perfume, a tube of lipstick, a couple of pens, basically the stuff she always carried with her. She had not known Jackson for very long, but something told her that he was probably never going to stop freaking her out. She tucked the passport into her purse and cast him a sideways glance. Everything was happening too fast for her to really get a grip on the situation. She still hadn't completely wrapped her mind around the fact that she was no longer with Jackson Rippner against her will, but of her own accord. She told herself that it was just to A) stay out of prison and B) find out what exactly it was that he was planning. She would not let herself admit, even to herself, that there was possibly more to it than that; that maybe somehow they had become linked to one another somewhere along their twisted journey together. She needed to get her mind away from the area of thinking. She needed to play the game. She needed to say something, anything.

"Hello," she said, "my name's Hilary Trent. What's yours?"

Jackson chuckled, a deep rugged masculine sound from the inside of his throat, "Hi, Hilary. I'm your husband, Andrew Trent, which reminds me…" He dug a hand into his pocket.

What he offered her was a small diamond solitaire ring that sparkled underneath the light of the parking garage. Lisa stopped walking and stared at the ring, her mouth dropping open slightly. There was a small sickening pang in her stomach. The man had thought of literally every detail…and that scared her just a little bit. Okay, a lot.

"I'm not wearing that." She spat.

Jackson stopped walking and turned to face her, still holding the small piece of jewelry. "Yes, you are." He stated. It was not a request. It was a fact. A command.

"I don't want to." Lisa said.

"Lisa," Jackson sighed, dropping his head for a moment, before looking back up and locking onto her eyes, "It's imperative that everything appear real. The details may not seem important to you, but believe me, they matter. I'm very good at my job, Lisa, and staying below the radar requires everything being in place. It has to look, feel, and smell completely legitimate or none of this is going to work. Now put the damn ring on."

His tone of voice chilled her down to her very core, but she stare stubbornly at him for a moment out of nothing more than pure defiance. Finally, she snatched the ring out of his hand and shoved it none-too-ceremoniously down onto her left hand ring finger. She then fell into step behind Jackson as he started to walk again.

"Hey, Jackson?" She said.

"Hmm?"

"Can I call my dad?"

Jackson stopped walking and looked at her, biting down on his bottom lip; a rather concise sign of his frustration.

"I just want him to know I'm okay." She said.

Jackson rubbed a big hand over his face and emptied the air out of his lungs. "You realize that his phone is most definitely tapped by now."

Lisa frowned and looked at her feet, "He's my dad."

"And right now, it's better for _him_ if he can honestly say that he doesn't know what happened to you." Jackson replied, once again the epitome of logic and rationality.

"Well, when can I call him?" she asked, bringing her eyes up to meet his.

Jackson took another breath is through his nose and pursed his lips as he thought about it. She could not call her father. It was the fastest way imaginable to get them caught but he needed to tell Lisa something. He knew that this was not something that she would consider negotiable and until he has her somewhere safe where he can sit her down and take the time to explain everything to her, he needed a way to placate her. So, he went with, "I'll figure something out, okay? I promise."

Lisa nodded and once again they were on the move. He reached back and grabbed her hand as they walked in through the doors. Nobody even looked up at them. They were just another young couple on their way out of town; nothing suspicious at all. They got into the check-in line and Lisa got a queasy sensation in her stomach. Jackson draped his arm casually around her shoulders and she couldn't stop herself from flinching at the sudden contact. It was weird to have Jackson touching her, but he gave her a squeeze that told her to just play the part. She took a calming breath, collected herself, and leaned into him; just another doting wife.

"I can get you over here." A young male attendant with spiky black hair tinged purple at the tips said as he waved them over to his desk.

Jackson let go of Lisa and lifted the suitcase up onto the scale, dropping the duffle bag from his shoulder to the ground. He then began speaking to the young attendant. Lisa watched the interaction carefully and had to press her lips together to keep from laughing out loud. The young desk clerk was checking Jackson out up, down, and sideways.

"Okay," he said, flashing Jackson what Lisa guessed was his best smile, "I'll just need to see a picture ID from both of you."

"Will a passport work?" Jackson asked.

"Perfect." The young man said.

Lisa dug the passport that Jackson had given to her from the purse and handed it to the purple haired boy while Jackson fished his own from the breast pocket of his jacket. The boy nodded and handed Lisa back her passport and a boarding pass rather quickly. He took a little bit longer with Jackson's, switching back and forth between the photo in the booklet and the real thing standing in front of him. Something told Lisa that he was trying to commit both images to memory for himself for…later.

"Sorry that this is taking so long," the flustered you man said, "Our computers have been down all day so we have to do everything the old fashioned way."

"Oh, really." Jackson said, "That must make things more difficult."

"No kidding." The kid flirted, "Damn hackers and their viruses."

Lisa's eyes flittered to Jackson's handsome profile. Somehow, she had the feeling that the damn hacker…and possible the virus…was standing right in front of the poor kid.

"All right," The attendant finally said, "Here you go, Mr. Trent. You have a nice trip, okay."

Lisa watched the young man intentionally brush the tips of his fingers against Jackson's hand as he handed him the ticket.

"Thanks." Jackson said with a polite smile, then he reached over and took Lisa by the elbow and led her away from the check-in counter.

"Awe, he had a crush on you, Jackie." She cooed.

"Don't ever call me that again." He said.

She giggled to herself at his annoyance and looked down at the ticket that she now had in her hand to see exactly where it was that he was taking her. What the hell was in Montana?

Jackson emptied out his pockets and dumped his Rolex into one of the plastic treys, muttering under his breath as he stepped out of his Italian leather shoes and put them up on the conveyer belt to go through the scanner. He overheard a couple of security guards behind him talking about how they would like to give the blonde a full body search and flashed them a look over his shoulder. They straightened instantly, dropping their smiles and tearing their eyes away from Lisa's ass. After that, they got through the security checkpoint without a hitch and were soon on their way to their terminal.

"So, we are going to Montana because…" Lisa started, waiting for him to fill in the blanks.

"Gorgeous state." Jackson said simply.

"Okay." Lisa replied, letting her disbelief in his answer come clearly through her voice.

Jackson fixed her with a pointed look, "The first thing that the FBI will check will be the flights out of the country. They won't even think about domestic flights until they have cleared all of those passenger lists. It'll buy us an extra week at the least and by then, we won't be in Montana anymore."

Lisa's brow drew together. She was even more confused now than when she had asked the question in the first place. She was just about to inquire further as to how that worked when Jackson's hip began to ring. He grabbed his cell phone and put it to his ear.

"What is it?" he asked.

Lisa watched his face as he rolled his eyes and groaned in what seemed to be a combination of frustration and annoyance. Jackson struck her as the type of guy who thought that he was smarter than everyone else, and he was probably right on most counts. He also didn't seem like the type to enjoy the company of those of lesser intelligence. She found herself wondering just how often he made the same face that he was making now as he spoke into the phone.

"No…we've already had this discussion…don't call me again." He said and pushed the 'end' button with his thumb before clipping the phone back onto the side of his belt.

Lisa had the feeling that even if she asked, he wouldn't tell her who it was that he had been talking to, so she didn't even bother. Not that she had any real desire to know who it was or what they were doing or planning together. That was probably one case that she would prefer to be left out in the dark on. They reached their gate and Lisa caught the smell of baking bread and her stomach let out a telling rumble.

"My thoughts exactly." Jackson said with the quirk of an eyebrow. Lisa blushed. He pulled the duffle bag from his shoulder and handed it to Lisa, "Go sit down. Mocha?"

Lisa nodded as she heaved the strap of the heavy duffle onto her own shoulder, "And a ba…"

"Bagel. Not toasted with light cream cheese." Jackson supplied.

"Yeah." She nodded again. She wasn't surprised that knew that, but that didn't mean that it freaked her out any less that he knew it. She shuffled over to the seats by their gate and sat down, placing the duffle bag in the seat next to her.

Jackson went to the back of the line at Starbucks and looked over to where Lisa was sitting. He had planned out everything about this little venture in vivid detail, and yet he didn't think that there was anything that could have prepared him for the feelings that it would actually arouse in him. He found himself loathing that blonde wig. He wanted to rip it from her head and watch her lovely auburn waves cascade down around her face from underneath it. It was okay though. Soon, he would have her secluded in Montana, all to himself, and she could lose the wig. Once he got her out to the country, she would be safe. At least, for a little while. It would buy him time though to come up with a more thorough plan. He just couldn't bring himself to let her go to prison; not when he had the means and the ability to help her. What was waiting for her in prison was not a lifetime behind bars, but a lot of sick people who would do damn near anything for perks as small as a carton of cigarettes…and sadly, the people that he had worked for knew just how to get in contact with them. The person ahead of him in the line moved and he stepped up to the cashier to place his order.

Lisa yawned into the palm of her hand and looked around the airport. She hated airports; understandably, but she really hated waiting in airports. She's rather have the whole experience over and done with as quickly as possible…like ripping off a band-aid. But, especially this time. This time, the whole situation just seemed surreal. Jackson appeared in front of her holding two cups of coffee and a white paper bag. He sat down and handed her one of the cups and then dug through the paper bag and gave her bagel to her. He pulled a muffin out for himself; lemon poppy seed. He saw out of the corner of his eye as Lisa took a bite of her bagel and then shook her head with a humorless chuckle.

"You okay, Leese?" he asked.

Another laugh that held nothing funny, "Oh, I'm great. I'm sitting in the middle of the airport wearing a blonde wig, on the run from the police, and having a cup of coffee and a bagel with the man who tortured me and threatened to kill my father. What could possibly be wrong?"

"I didn't threaten to kill your father. I threatened to have him killed. It's a subtle difference, but a difference nonetheless." Jackson replied.

She clenched her jaw and fought off the urge to throw her mocha in his face. Lord, what was she doing here? What was she doing with him? She had been asking herself that from the moment that he had thrown her into the back of that SUV and she still hadn't come up with an answer. At the same time, she still hadn't really tried to get away from him. So, maybe the real question she should be asking herself was, what exactly was she hoping to gain from this? Her freedom? Her life back? Maybe even, revenge? She wasn't sure, but Montana was a long flight away so she was certain that she would have time to figure it out.

Flight 1750 nonstop to Montana will now begin boarding first class and special assistance passengers at gate 27." A chipper voice came over the loud speaker.

"That's us, Leese." Jackson said, finishing off the last of his coffee and then tossing the empty cup into the trash. He lifted the duffle bag from the other side of Lisa and waited from her to get to her feet. She sat perfectly still, glaring up at him for his previous comment. "Let's go." He repeated, "You can sulk just as easily on the plane."

She stood up in one quick, jerky motion and began making her way to the boarding gate, giving Jackson a deathly glare from the corner of her eye. He muttered a curse at himself under his breath before falling into step behind her.

Lisa stalked onto the plane and took her first class seat, crossing her arms over her chest in a huff. Jackson smiled at the flight attendant as he tucked the carryon into the overhead compartment. As he sat down in his seat beside Lisa, she angled her body away from him and the flight flashed him a sympathetic look.

"Lisa…" he whispered.

"I don't like you." She snapped without looking at him.

"That's your right. But, whether you believe it or not, I am trying to help you."

"Why?" Lisa asked, still facing away from him.

"Would you believe me if I said that I was trying to make amends?" Jackson asked.

"No."

Well, this is going well, Jackson thought bitterly, leaning his head back against his seat and closing his eyes. The rest of the passengers had begun to board the plane and Jackson felt himself wishing they would all hurry up so that they could be on their way. The sooner they were off the ground and in the sky, the better. He opened his eyes, snatched his phone and turned it off, casting a glance over at Lisa as he did so. She was still staring out the window.

"So," he said, shifting in his seat so that he was closer to her, "are you going to ignore me for the entire flight?"

"That's the plan." She said with a nod, not looking away from the window.

"I guess I should have bought you a magazine." Jackson said with a grin, hoping at least to get her to look at him. The ploy worked.

Lisa turned quickly to face him, her mouth drawn in a tight line, brow furrowed in anger. She was looking at him like she wanted to hit him. For a second there, he thought that she actually might do it. Instead, she shook her head, her face twisted in disgust, and then she looked away from him again. The way he was talking to her was beginning to piss her off. He was treating her like they were old friends who had gotten into an argument; not like a terrorist and his captive. That was what she needed. She needed him to be the handsome blue eyed monster from her nightmares so that she could hate him more easily. But no! He had to sit there and be all charming! Jackass!

The flight attendants went through their safety demonstration as the plane rumbled to life and began taxiing its way to the runway. Once they began their takeoff, Jackson saw Lisa grab her armrest and close her eyes. He leaned in toward her again.

"Just breathe." He whispered.

Lisa's eyes opened and she looked at him. He smiled and allowed himself a moment to back in the incredible striking green color of those eyes. Then, he shifted so that his upper body was turned toward her.

"Have you ever been to Montana before?" he asked.

"Once. When I was a kid." Lisa said.

"Did you like it?"

"I don't really remember a lot about it. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering. I've only been once or twice myself. It is definitely a very scenic state. Lots of…horses."

Lisa looked at him, "What?"

The ride smoothed drastically as the plane leveled out after its ascent. Lisa felt her body relax a little, and then look at Jackson wide eyed and mouth open as she realized what he had done.

"You're pathetic." She said, but her words lacked conviction.

Jackson's only response was to grin that smug half smile that was undeniably charming. Lisa narrowed her eyes at him and his smile just broadened. It gave him a surge of pleasure to know that despite what she thought about him right now, he was still able to distract her from her fear of flying. Maybe he hadn't completely lost his touch with her after all. Better yet, maybe he still had some grounds to hope with Lisa.

Meanwhile…

Detective Paul watched the security tape for what had to be the hundredth time. He was certain that there was something he was missing. Agent techno weenie, Felix had managed to zoom in and enhance the image of Lisa's captor when he was turned toward the camera, but his face was partially obscured and hidden by his hair. They hadn't even been able to make out his profile clearly. He searched for anything that might give him a lead, a clue, an inkling. So far, all he had gotten was the memorized image of a man grabbing Lisa, after she put up one hell of a fight, many kudos to her for that, and then running off the screen. The camera hadn't even captured the blur of a vehicle leaving the parking lot.

Despite Detective Aberman's desire to keep the matter from going public, officers were now flashing Lisa's photograph around and it was being displayed every half hour on the local television networks so that anyone in the surrounding areas who had seen her and her unknown acquaintance could alert the proper authorities. So far, the only thing that had come up was a gas station attendant who had seen a young woman who may or may not have matched her description. He admitted that he hadn't really paid attention to the woman and from what that guy had been stuffing up his nose, Paul was surprised he had even thought about her at all.

Special Agents Marlowe and Jenkins were briefing a group of uniforms while Felix was on the opposite side of the station tinkering with his computer files. He had said something about the logic of deduction. Honestly, half of the time that kid opened his mouth, Paul had no idea what it was that he was saying. And the mighty McGall was in a meeting with the chief, the district attorney, and the mayor, no less. Apparently, finding Lisa had rated some pretty high input. Bureaucratic bullshit was probably the best term to describe what was going on in that meeting. How they were going to deal with the politics and media backlash of the situation and that kind of thing.

With a frustrated breath, Paul pushed up from the chair he was sitting at to get himself another cup of the coffee-like sludge that had been made over twelve hours ago. His brain was running on empty and he only had another ten minutes of peace before Aberman would wake up from his thirty minute military nap. He was convinced that Lisa was running, but Paul just couldn't bring himself to see that, and in a way that bothered him. As a cop, he should have been objective and willing to examine the situation from all possible aspects. Maybe he really had let himself get too close to this one.

He couldn't see Lisa escaping because he had convinced himself of her innocence. But, damn it, she wasn't a sociopath! And, she wasn't some simpering little girl who could be easily manipulated by a smooth talker! She was smart, she was resilient, and she was a good person. And now she was out there somewhere and he just knew that her life was in danger.

While…

Lisa blinked her eyes open, yawned, and discreetly wiped a bit of drool from her chin. She must have fallen asleep again. The sky outside was just beginning to turn light. How long had she been out? She looked over her shoulder and saw Jackson sound asleep beside her. His head rested on a pillow, a set of headphones covered his ears, and his face was completely relaxed. Lisa felt herself sigh as she looked at him. He had such handsome features, she found herself wanting to reach over and touch his cheek; to feel the roughness of his stubble beneath her fingertips.

She quickly pushed the thought aside and turned away from his sleeping form. She couldn't look at him anymore. There was already a thought creeping its way into the back of her mind, like a slug that would soon need to be squashed. She had almost let herself think that he really was a beautiful man. She could not let herself feel that way about someone like Jackson Rippner. She would not.

As the light grew outside, more of it spilled in through the window. Jackson groaned from somewhere in the back of his throat as the light disturbed his slumber. He cracked an eyelid, revealing the tiniest sliver of cerulean, just before he reached across Lisa and pulled the shade of her window down. He then settled back into his seat, determined to fall back asleep.

Lisa glared at him and reopened the shade. She didn't particularly want it open, but he hadn't even asked her if he could close it, now had he? And it was her shade. Jackson's eyes opened all the way this time, fixing her with a steely gaze. He reached over and closed the window shade. Lisa looked at him and without breaking eye contact, lifted the shade. Jackson sat up straight in his seat, jerked the headphones from his ears and tucked them back where he had gotten them. He smoothed his hands over his suit jacket and took a calming breath. Lisa grinned.

They were like two five year olds pulling each other's hair in Kindergarten. All they needed now was for the teacher, or in this case, the flight attendant, to come around and tell them that if they didn't behave she was going to be forced to put them into time out.

"Time to wake up, anyway." He said, his voice still groggy from sleep. He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a small bottle of Visine. He tilted his head back and squinted a few drops into each eye before looking back down, blinking madly and screwing the cap back onto the bottle.

"My head is starting to itch." Lisa said, the comment coming from out of nowhere.

Jackson chuckled as he tucked his eye drops back into his pocket. "I'm sure we'll be there soon." He said.

Sure enough, it wasn't five minutes later that the captain came over the speaker to inform them that they had begun their general descent to the airport runway and should be landing within the next twenty to thirty minutes.

"So," Lisa said, "what are we going to do in Montana?"

"Find somewhere to take a shower." Jackson said simply, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

Lisa certainly wasn't going to argue with that logic. She was sure that she still had some mud caked on her somewhere from their little romp through that damned field. However, she wasn't going to let him out of answering the question that easily.

"I'm serious." She said.

"So am I."

Jackson looked away from her questioning gaze. What exactly did she want him to say? He decided that the best course of action was to simply…say nothing. Admit nothing. Be held responsible for nothing. He didn't want to say too much at this point, still uncertain as to how she would take it. He didn't want to risk having her react in some unpredictable fashion until he was fully prepared to deal with her, whatever happened. It would be better to let her believe that he had some sinister scheme up his sleeve rather than to tell her that he couldn't let her go to jail and be murdered…probably not quietly, not in her sleep, and definitely brutally. She was his and if anyone was going to cause physical damage to her pretty little body, it was going to be him.

"Why won't you just tell me what you have planned?" Lisa said.

Jackson turned to meet her stare, his blue eyes sparkling, his smile cocky and dripping with an arrogance that no one but he could pull off. He made confidence look easy; he made conceit look appealing. Something about his air and the way he held himself when he was being an egotistical prick that made him so sexy, Lisa wondered how he could stand himself. With that air definitely working in his favor, he said, "What fun would that be?"

Lisa felt her breathing shorten as he looked at her with his eyes shining in such a way. She felt herself imagining how easy it must be for him to drive women insane with no more that a look from those eyes. Somehow, ideas began to wander into parts of her mind that had been all but forgotten. Her cheeks began to flush and the air of the room became all of the sudden hot and pressing. Jackson was still looking at her and she was paralyzed with abrupt fear. He was staring at her as though he could see inside of her; all the way into her very soul. What if he was looking at her right now and he knew what thoughts were going through her mind?

She blinked rapidly several times and turned her face away from him, praying that she had not started to blush. She touched a hand to her cheek to find the skin warm, but maybe her hands were just cold. Just to be on the safe side, she allowed the long blonde locks of the wig to fall in front of her face in hopes that it would hide her embarrassment.

The plane landed with a slight jolt and Lisa was bounced back into reality. She was now, officially on the opposite side of the country with a man who was handsome, charming, and a terrorist. When the plane came to a stop, Jackson rose quickly and stretched his arms a little before pulling the duffle bag down from the overhead. He waited for Lisa to step out in the aisle ahead of him and once she did, she was overcome with the eerie memory of that red eye flight from no more than a month ago. His hand once again found the small of her back, and she shuddered at the touch.

Soon enough, they were off the plane and standing idly at the baggage claim. Jackson snatched the bag up off the rotating belt and motioned from her to follow him with a jerk of his head. He had a car outside waiting for them and again, like much of his life, the sooner he was on the move, the more comfortable he would be.

Back in Florida…

"We have a lead!" Jenkins bellowed as she came prancing into headquarters, waving for everyone to come into the computer room with her.

Paul was on his feet in less that a second, and within the next thirty, he was piling into the tech room with the rest of the team where Felix and Jenkins were waiting for them. He took the empty seat beside Felix.

"What have you got for us?" McGall asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall in a pose of power.

"We got a call from a worker at Samson Dae Airport who claims that she saw a young woman who resembled our photograph. We got the security tape. Felix enhanced it from there." Jenkins said, laying a delicate hand on Felix's shoulder. The poor kid looked like he would burst if she touched him again.

He cued up the tape. Paul watched intently as a blonde woman appeared on the screen. Felix closed in on the image. It was Lisa standing in line with a young man, who had his back to the camera. They went to the check-in kiosk.

"The only shit part," Jenkins continued, "the airport has been having a problem with hackers sending viruses in through the computers. The time on the camera is all messed up and unclear so we basically have no idea how long ago this footage was taken."

"What does the witness say?" Paul asked.

"She can't remember an exact time…but she says it was definitely between 3pm and 7:30." Jenkins responded.

"That's a hell of a gap there." Paul commented.

"She couldn't give me anymore. She's been on for thirty-six hours without sleep. I couldn't push her too hard."

"Zoom in on the guy, Felix." Paul said.

Felix did as he was told. The man onscreen had the same build as the man who had grabbed Lisa. He kept his head tilted downward, away from the camera.

"Come on, asshole," Paul said to the screen, "look up. Let us get a look at you."

The man nodded and turned away without so much as an upward glance. He took hold of Lisa and walked out of the frame.

"Doesn't really look like she was there against her will, does it?" Aberman muttered from the back of the room.

McGall spoke before Paul could snap at his partner, "We need to know who this guy is that she's with."

"Do we know where they're going?" Paul asked.

**Author's Note: **Well, that's all for now guys. I promise that updates won't take so long next time. Please, please, please, let me know what you think. Thanks!!


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